


Thrown Together

by LuckyDuck49



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms
Genre: All The Tropes, All their names are switched— I’m not sorry, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexuality, Drunk Texting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Forgive me internet, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn (ish), Swearing, for I have sinned in the most fluffy and banter-y way possible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 64,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDuck49/pseuds/LuckyDuck49
Summary: A sweet, bantering story set in modern day, featuring William (NOT Will) Darcy and Elize “Lizzy” Bennít. Some Spanish dialogue, but its minimal and I put in translations.Sort of Coffeeshop AU, but 24 hour convenience store. Also college setting, Family values, swearing, racism, too much coffee, and FAR too many coincidences for it NOT to be destiny. ❤️
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley, Lizzie Bennet/William Darcy
Comments: 79
Kudos: 53





	1. Lights up on the QuickaShack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Elize (Lizzy) Bennít and William (NOT Will) Darcy were thrown together, they thought of it as a fluke. And maybe it had been, in a way. But nobody likes the truth. A much better story, had it been meant to be. Funny that it kept happening though. Thrown together, again, again, and again. Fluke after fluke after fluke. At what point do we begin to recognize all the little happenstances and chance occasions as… fate?

It had been a warm sort of Spring day, the looming heat of Summer threatening to bake the world around the edges. The sky was a clean and crisp sapphire blue, with paintbrush clouds sweeping across the horizon. Flower petals were swept along by a sweet breeze that tasted of quiet hope and altoid mints. The streets of Haertford were pristine and untroubled in the late morning light. 

Elize (or Lizzy, as she preferred) had been having a FANTASTIC morning so far. She had gotten up early (which usually wasn’t her thing, but whatever) and hopped down the stairs of her apartment with gusto. One of her roommates, Charlotte, had gone to her family’s house over the weekend, and Lizzy’s older sister hadn’t had time to go shopping for them this week—so their apartment was barren of any food items. 

Lizzy grinned to herself as she shimmied down the fire escape to avoid her creepy landlord on the first floor. She wasn’t running to the QuickaSnack for self-indulgence, NO NEVER! Even though she was a neighborhood renowned cook and prided herself of saving money, she was NOT going into the store for FRIVOLOUS reasons, NOW WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT? She simply wanted a Ding Dong, that was all.

Besides, this store was not JUST a store. The QuickaSnack was a staple in their little community. The owner, Mr. Gardiner, was a father figure to just about everyone in the neighborhood. He had built the convenience store from the ground up, with the help of lots of people. Mr Bennít had given him a loan for the insurance, Mrs Lu (Charlotte’s mother) baked goodies for weekend specials, and all the kids from Merriton University either took shifts there or shopped there every other day.

The little broken down convenience store had become a memorial of sorts, to a time where entire communities were brought together for a common goal. The food was a mix of junk and homemade, the music playing was either Pop or a strange combination of cultures: old boleros wafting up from the chipped paint of the rafters, twanging country and Korean love songs swirling in a delightful jumble from a blown out speaker. All the megawatt lights had a christmas feel all year round, the store was open to everyone 24/7, and even the graffiti was tasteful.

It was a haven of a store. It was not just a pit stop. It was the QuickaSnack.

She sashayed in the store, already tapping her feet to the song Mr. Gardiner had picked out that morning. She hummed along to Lady Gaga’s lyrics as she plucked her sweet sweet sugar craving off the shelf.

“Hey Mr. G!” She called out, once she reached the counter.

“Whozat?” The balding man stuck his head out from behind a new shipment of gatorade that encased almost the entire back wall. “Lizzy?”

“In the flesh,” she answered with a flourish. “Should I leave the money on the counter? Looks like you’re a pinch.”

“Actually, sweet girl…” Mr. G trailed off, hopefully. Lizzy sighed fondly. He only ever called her ‘sweet girl’ when he needed a favor.

“Need me to man the counter for a few?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“If you don’t mind,” came the relieved reply from behind a wall of gatorade.

Lizzy smiled and shrugged. She had a few minutes to kill before class started. Adjusting the AC and pulling her T-shirt on and off of her neck a few times, Lizzy sat down on the shocking comfy office chair Mr Gardiner had hidden behind the counter. 

“Hey where’s the lil’ tyke?”

Mr G laughed. “I love that nickname. I don’t know if Ronnie feels the same way though. Anyway, your sister took him over to the Playpen this morning. Hey, isn’t she starting there today?”

“Yeah, Rosa Jane’s reeeeal excited about it. Dunno if I would be, havin’ to look after a bunch of drooling troublemakers at the crack of dawn.”

“Watch yourself, Missy,” Mr G chuckled mildly, “That’s my boy you’re talking about.”

Mr Gardiner, despite being a perpetual bachelor in his late fifties, had come into custody of a little boy named Ronnie Carter. Ronnie had been his nephew from an estranged sister, who had some tragic story attached to her name. The father had taken off (word had it, he had been a gambler and a drunk, and younger Mr G had chased him off himself, and his sister had never forgiven him), and when the lady had gotten into a DUI and not come out again, a heartbroken Mr. Gardiner had been sent a little bundle of joy, still swaddled and fresh from the hospital. He had been raising Ronnie on his own for the past four and a half years. 

The entire neighborhood had taken him in, and, much like the QuickaSnack, chipped in. Especially the Bennít girls. 

Lizzy was perhaps his favorite, but maybe she just liked to tell herself that. She certainly was the one with the most free time to play with him. They read stories, watched cartoons, built duplo towers, ate goldfish in _enormous_ quantities, made each other laugh, and, best of all in Ronnie’s well-formed four-year-old opinion, treated each other as equals. But all the Bennít sisters were his favorite, in their own, special way.

The twins, Lysa and Katyln, had played dress up with little Ronnie for YEARS, showing him all the best fashion trends and taught him how to use slang that was arguably appropriate for a toddler (wicked, dope, yeet, jerkwad). They also colored with him, and let him act as their excuse as to why their homework was never turned in on time.

The next oldest, Marie, was normally the most antisocial person around, but with sweet Ronnie, she was almost… motherly. She would read him moral-heavy stories and taught him some basics of piano. Since Ronnie was four and half, he wasn’t very good, but he liked to hear Marie sing. Actually, because of Ronnie’s pure and whole-hearted encouragement, Marie had decided to make a name for herself and go into music in her girlfriend’s band. 

And Marie wasn’t the only Bennít sister who he helped with their career. The oldest sister also owed him her enthusiasm for her job.

Rosa Jane, called Rosie J or simply Rosie by those close to her, was the epitome of sweet. Pinnacle of kind. She was an angel on earth; everybody said so. And that term was also applicable to her looks.

The oldest Bennít girl had warm, dark brown hair, the color of fresh coffee grind and rubies in the night. Her face was sculpted and glowed with health, her lips were rose petals and her eyelashes thick as the rainforest canopy. Her eyes were soft chocolate, melting the hearts of many with their doe-like innocence. Rosa Jane had a perfect face, and a body that measured up. So, from a young age, she had been pushed into modelling by their.. _Enthusiastic_ mother. 

Poor Rosa Jane had never liked modelling. She was good at it-- great, even! But she was also terribly shy, and a bit afraid of the camera. She once confessed to Lizzy that it felt invasive, like anyone would be able to see her and judge her without her knowing. Rosa Jane’s self esteem had never been great. The modelling made it worse. But when little Ronnie came around, with his eager attitude and happy little dimples, Rosie J had fallen in love. 

She had found her passion, and immediately quit her modelling career to be a teacher for young children. She was good at it too. Kids flocked to her, to her sweet smiles and untroubled serenity. They adored her at once. She had a talent, and had just been hired at the local daycare, called the Playpen. 

Lizzy had of course been extremely supportive of her older sister. In fact, the only qualm she had against Rosie’s new career path was that it made her feel even more lost. You see, Elize was a writer. And a damned good one at that. But had no real ambitions, other than to get out and tell stories. But, she was still in her second-to-last year of college, she had time to figure things out. She was right now, just working odd jobs around town, scribbling out poems and jamming to 80s rock music, dreaming of a day when she knew what was coming next.


	2. The Trials of Matrons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy goes to class and meets a new figure (can u guess the character?). Also talks with her mom on the phone. Humor. Will have dialogue translations at the end of chapter (gotta have that Spanglish lol)

Elize just had morning classes that day, so after her half-hour interlude at the QuickaSnack, she took her free Ding Dongs (her fee), and headed up to Merriton. It was a twenty minute walk, but she could make it in 5 if she ran. So Lizzy Bennít showed up to her World Affairs class, sweaty and exhausted, but only two minutes late and very proud of herself. 

“Ms. Bennít,” her professor, the eternally bed-headed Mr Trent Unimpor called, “glad you could join us.”

“My pleasure,” she replied with a smile. She was rewarded with an eye roll of magnificent proportions. 

“ANYway, before we were INTERRUPTED, I was just about to introduce Dr. Jennafer Lawrence, who will be serving as my replacement next fall.”

Lizzy resisted the urge to cheer. She restrained herself on the grounds that she hadn’t brought pom-poms.

“Hi,” Dr. Lawrence said shyly, waving a hand at the assembled students.

She was a tallish skinny lady, getting on in years, who had pale, milky-pink skin that looked like a kitten’s underbelly. She had wrinkles, and her blonde hair was starting to fade into a smoky color, but she still gave the impression of grace and poise. She was standing awkwardly to one side. She had made the mistake of wearing a sweater, and sweating was what she did. _Poor lady. Must be nervous,_ Lizzy thought with a wince of sympathy.

She daydreamed through the rest of class, and when it was over, she made her way to Dr. Lawrence. 

“Hello,” she said, raising a hand in greeting.

“Hiya,” the woman said, clasping and unclasping her hands. “Is there.. Uh, something I can help you with?”

“Not really, I just wanted to meet you,” Lizzy said with a grin, “I’m Elize Bennít, by the way, but everyone calls me Lizzy.”

“Well, nice to meet you Lizzy,” the woman replied with a hesitant smile. “Are you.. Taking this class next year?”

“Yup! Already looking forward to having me as a student?”

“A bit,” Dr Lawrence laughed, “Not everyone has the gall to introduce themselves to a new teacher.”

“Well, I figured, you’re new in town, and could use some connections. And I’m the queen of connections.” Lizzy flashed her a brilliant smile, and did not mention that it was a past time of hers to people-watch, and latch onto those who seemed to be struggling in social situations. 

“Really? Oh that’s so nice of you!”

“Yeah well, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“Actually,” Dr Lawrence said, smiling in an unsure sort of way, “I do need some help.”

“‘Kay. Shoot!”

Dr Lawernce looked mildly embarrassed, and bit her lip. “Do you happen to know any good places for grocery shopping? Not heavy items, just.. Just snack food, I guess. Something to get me through the day. I just have a few things I need to pick up.” 

Lizzy’s smile widened considerably. “Ahaha,” she chortled, “and here I was worried you’re gonna ask something I couldn’t help with! There’s a convenience store, in Haertford, just a mile down from here. It’s called the QuickaSnack. It’s the best place around! And I’m not biased because I take shifts there, it’s a well known fact that Mr G’s blend of homemade and store bought is every working person or student’s dream come true! It’s busy in the mornings and around sunset, but mid mornings and afternoons it’s pretty dead. You should check it out, if you’re lookin’ for good food!”

“Thanks, I will.” She smiled. “And what was it called again?”

“QuickaSnack.” Lizzy gave her directions, and the aging professor looked immensely grateful. 

“Oh, oh thank you! I’ll be sure to run by after I finish up with classes.”

“No problem, Dr. Lawrence!”

“Please, call me Jenna.”

They shook hands and smiled at each other, each thrilled that they had made a new contact. 

The rest of the classes were kind of a blur for Lizzy. Her one bright spot was that she had a break between school and the rest of her responsibilities at twilight. She would walk back to Merriton _(luxuriously_ slowly) and check in at QuickaSnack to see if Mr G needed any help. What with Rosie J taking the daycare job and Charlotte Lu being out of town, the poor guy was being left short handed. Plus, he paid both in cash and in snacks.

Unfortunately, Lizzy’s pleasant walk back to the QuickaSnack was being hijacked. She should have known it was a mistake to answer the phone without looking.

“-- No podía creerlo cuando Sra Lu me lo dijo, pero fui al Netherfield y ¡Entonces ÉL ESTABA ALLÍ! Más rico que Midas y guapo como una estrella de cine-- yo SÉ que él es perfecto para Rosa-- y Sra Lu me dijo que ELLA piensa que se va caer en el amor con SU hija-- qué mierda…”

As usual, Lizzy’s mom had started the phone call with 0 conext, and, as usual when she was all worked up, she forgot that she wasn’t speaking English. Lizzy growled under her breath and gathered the strength to interrupt her mother’s tirade. 

“¡MAMÁ! Contexto, por favor. And please stop yelling through the phone, it’s making my head hurt.”

“Ay, mija,” Sra Bennít chided, “What have I told you about reading, hm? Bad for the eyes, AND makes your head hurt.”

“Mamá,” Lizzy groaned, “Just please explain what you’re calling me for?”

“O, bueno. A new MAN has moved into the neighborhood! Se llama Charles Bingley, y no sabía what all the fuss was about until I heard how RICH HE WAS!” 

Lizzy discreetly held the phone away from her ear as she rounded the corner and headed into the QuickaSnack. Mr G gave her a questioning look, and Lizzy mouthed “MOM”. His eyes widened, and he gave her a deep, understanding nod. He held out a fresh roll of powdered donuts as a ‘I’m sorry for your loss (of hearing)’ gift.

She plopped down behind the counter (Mr G was restocking) and pulled the phone back to her ear in time for her mother’s last few words.

“--asique tu padre tiene que visitar a los Bingelys o nosotros will never get on their good side!”

Lizzy took a bite. “Lo siento, mamá, I didn’t hear that. What were you saying?”

_“Ay, Dios me da fuerza,”_ her mom muttered into the phone. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’m saying, correcto?”

“Exactamente, mamá.”

“Al igual que tu padre,” Sra Bennít grumbled to herself. “Whatever! I’ll just tell you durante cena manaña. You WILL be there, yes?”

“Yes,” Lizzy parroted back, annoyed.

“Good.” A pause. “Anyway, that’s all! ¡Diviértete en escuela, meet some _boys,_ llamame! Adíos, querido.”

“Adíos,” Lizzy mumbled as the phone clicked off. God, would she ever get used to her mom’s calls? And now she had agreed to go to family dinner tomorrow night. UGHHhh.. 

At least she had gotten it over with. It was never good to ignore your mother, even (and especially) one as crazy as hers. But still, the driveby-fast conversation about some rich new guy in town had left Lizzy with emotional whiplash. She tried to put all thoughts of family and school and _boys_ out of her head, but her headache just got worse.

With a sigh, Lizzy came to the conclusion the dull throbbing behind her temples wasn’t going away anytime soon. Might as well get comfortable with it..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (“--I couldn’t believe it when Mrs Lu told me, but I went to Netherfield and THERE HE WAS! Richer than Midas and as handsome as a movie star-- I KNOW he’d be perfect for our Rosa Jane-- and Mrs Lu told me that SHE thinks he’s going to fall in love with HER daughter-- what the hell…”  
> “MOM! Conext, please. And please stop yelling at me through the phone, it’s making my head hurt.”  
> “Oh, daughter…”  
> “MOM…”  
> “Oh, well. A new MAN has moved into the neighborhood! His name’s Charles Bingley, and I didn’t know what all the fuss was about until I heard how RICH HE WAS!”  
> …  
> “--so your father has to visit the Bingleys or we will never get on their good side!”  
> “Sorry, mom, I didn’t hear that. What were you saying?”  
> “Oh Lord give me strength, you haven’t been listening to a word I’m saying, right?”  
> “Exactly, mom.”  
> “Just like your father… Whatever! I’ll just tell you at dinner tomorrow. You WILL be there, yes?”  
> “Yes.”  
> “Good. Anyway, that’s all! Have fun at school, meet some boys, call me! Bye, dear.”  
> “Bye.”)


	3. Just Another Jerk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the business man. Things do not go well, to say the least. CoNfLiCt. Will post again soon :)  
> (Btw, feel free to correct my Spanish [or English] if I get soemthing wrong)

Elize munched on the pity donuts begot by Mr G, and switched on the store’s jacked playlist. It did not come on as something soothing as she had hoped, but instead it started playing some wordless bastard of techno and freestyle jazz that screeched up and down the scale. She was about to turn it off when Lizzy realized the chaos actually suited her mood. 

She stood up and began sorting out the cash register just to have something to do (the store was pretty dead), and muttering furiously to herself as she went. Her brain must have been still on Mom-time, because her words slipped seamlessly into spanish.

“Uyy, ¿Por qué mamá _insiste_ en molestarme _todas los días._ .? Ella tiene otra cosas hacer.. Deseo que ella _SÓLO escúchame_ cuando yo le digo déjame en paz.. Ella es… ¡está exasperante! ¡¿Por qué necesito ‘conocer chicos?!’ Los chicos no me importan, tengo mis clases en lo que pensar… No tengo tiempo para nadie, mucho menos CHICOS…”

While Lizzy was busy muttering to herself and abusing the poor cash register, a customer walked in, completely unnoticed. 

He stalked the aisles for a bit, before getting stuck on the bakery/breakfast section. He looked up, and tried for a few seconds (unsuccessfully) to get the attention of the girl behind the counter.

“How much for a coffee?”

Lizzy looked up, startled. The man in front of her was something you didn’t see every day. 1) He was in a full business suit, complete with a pocket square and everything (an unusual sight for the QuickaSnack, to be sure) and 2) He was _smokin’ hot._ He was white (looking almost sickly in the store’s glare), but had curly black hair and a sculpted jawline that was set in a regal fashion. His eyes were dark brown pools of rock and earth, boring into her with deep set bags dragging underneath the raven lashes.

“Huhuh--,” Lizzy said distracted, before realizing he had asked her something, “¿Qué dijiste?”

She was about to correct herself and ask again in English, when the handsome man groaned. “Oh Jesus Christ, _she doesn’t speak English_. I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled to himself, low in his throat. “HOW. MUCH. FOR THE. COFFEE?” He added volume, as if that would help someone who didn’t speak his language.

Lizzy recoiled, her mouth hanging open. Sure, she had experienced racist shit growing up, but never so... _openly._ It wasn’t like he was saying slurs or anything, at least, but it was still INCREDIBLY rude what he was doing. Seriously. _Who did this asswipe think he was?_ Lizzy’s mouth had fallen open a while ago, and she had yet to close it. AND he wasn’t even finished; he had taken her silence as a sign that she did NOT in fact speak english. 

“Yo,” he pointed at his chest, “Quiere.” Held his hands up in a pleading gesture. Coffee.” he pointed to the cup, then looked at it with a tired grimace. 

“How do you say coffee?” the asshole mumbled to himself, “C-café? No, no that’s brown.. Shit, I don’t know spanish...”

Lizzy got a hold of herself. She widened her eyes dramatically, and took the man’s cup with an almost bow. “I.. make.. you.. C-coffee?” she asked, making her voice as ‘English is not my first language’ as she could get.

“Oh, THANK YOU!” the man said, rubbing a hand over his weary face.

As Lizzy stepped out from behind the counter, she assessed him. Tall, maybe 6’4”, with muscular shoulders and a lean build. Shifting gently from one leg to the other, as if fatigued. Good. She could take out his kneecaps first.

Then she remembered the last time (the sheriff’s office had been so cold), and had to quickly rethink her plan. 

Lizzy shuffled meekly up to the coffee machine and took the Dark Roast pot off in one hand. Then she whirled around, and began speaking as quickly as she could get the words out.

“So, sir, we here at the QuickaSnack offer a staggering variety of blends for a store of our size, as our consumer bracket encompassess much of Haertford and the surrounding area, so we provide our customers with a choice of Dark Roast, Java, Espresso, Decaf, and Mocha. Of course, there is always our Home Blend, but you’ll have to forgo your privilege of knowledge, as that has our own secret ingredients mixed in as per request from our customers. We also have milk, sugar, half and half, and other seasonings. Is there any type you would care to specify? Sir?”

The man blinked at her. Lizzy had been wrong; he hadn’t been just ‘tired’. He looked like he was dead on his feet. Honestly though, she couldn’t give two shits.

“Sir?” She prompted, a sharp sunshine-smile stuck in place. 

He blinked again. “Uh,” he said, dumbly, “You.. speak English.”

“Smart one, you are,” Lizzy said, grinning like a serial killer. 

She poured his coffee with expert agility. She picked the Home Blend (just because it was the most expensive, and yeah, she was petty like that) and poured him a generous cup. She swirled it with just the right amount of cream (no sugar), and put a little nutmeg over the top. She then walked quickly to the register and rang him up.

“Your total comes out to $6.15, sir.”

The man was still standing, dumbstruck, by the coffee machine. He walked numbly over to the credit card machine and swiped. “Thanks,” he said, taking the coffee. As she handed it to him, his fingers locked around hers for a second too long. He was staring at her. She probably would have been flattered, had he not already proved himself to be a racist sonuvabitch. 

“Come again sir,” she said, with a forced smile. He nodded, and as he shuffled away, coffee in hand, Lizzy glanced down, and saw he had paid _exactly_ $6.15. No tip.

“Oh, please you the left door,” she called after him, just before he made it out, “The right’s, um, under repairs!”

He said another numb “thanks” over his shoulder, and took a sip as he opened and stepped through the left door. For a fraction of a second, the hard lines of his face softened, the bags under his eyes lessened, and his eyes fluttered closed. A faint, almost innocent smile graced his lips. 

Then the left door, the fast-moving Death-Door (as it was sometimes called), smacked him on the butt, knocking him out of the store and spilling coffee all down the front of his expensive looking suit.

Lizzy turned away to hide her laughter. Leading him through the faulty door had been bullshit and she knew it. But she couldn’t resist. She couldn’t resist knowing that that presumptuous prick just had his $6.15 coffee decorating his smug suit. She hoped it stained. 

What an asshole. Elize Bennít sighed, turned her music back on, and her thoughts left the Racist Suit Guy at “Dear God, I hope I never have to see him again.”

Unfortunately, as Lizzy would later come to find out, fate had a funny sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (“Ughh, why does mom insist on bothering me every day..? She has other stuff to do.. I wish she would JUST listen to me when I tell her to leave me alone.. She is infuriating! Why do I need to ‘meet boys?!’ I don’t care about boys, I have my classes to think about… I don’t have time for anyone, much less BOYS…”)


	4. Changing Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy POV. His version of the encounter, and the reasons behind it

Let it be known: Jet lag does not agree with William Darcy. 

He had just wrapped up a minor business trip in Beijing. He was a corporate lawyer, for one of the largest companies in the world. Technically, he only worked for the Pridgice Branch (as opposed to Ema, Senibil, or Persua). He had no idea what any of them stood for. All he knew was that together they made Austen, the largest real estate company in the world with over 2,500 assets in 32 countries.

Since Pridgice had just been given to the new kid on the block, a Mister Charles Bingley, Darcy was assigned to look after him. Which was good, because they already knew each other fairly well. College roommates at Cambridge. Darcy, being the best lawyer and one of the largest investors of Austen, was the natural choice to shadow Mr Bingley on his first big project. It was a golden opportunity!

...Unfortunately, this..  _ time-sensitive _ golden opportunity was on the other side of the world from where Darcy had been when he had received it. So, he had to book a last minute ticket out of Beijing (which did not, as they say, cost an arm and a leg, but now he was certainly short a few toes), and fly the nearly 20 hours over to Southern California. All for a man he hadn’t seen in years to work on a project he hadn’t bothered to research.

Darcy hated planes.

It was difficult to hate air travel as much as he did, in his job. But he had managed it fairly well, up until now. For example, he had booked the absolute shortest flight he could to Europe (driving up the Northeast coast then flying to Ireland) at NIGHT so he could sleep through it. He hadn’t, but he had tried. Then he had taken a short flight down from Ireland to France, then taken a series of trains until he reached Istanbul. Then, he gritted his teeth, downed a bottle of sleeping pills, and hunkered down for the 4 layover flights to Beijing. 

It had been rough, and he had taken a few days to recover. At least he had slept for most of it. It was planned, it was calculated, it was  _ assured.  _

The flight back to the States had been none of those things.

First off, the call had come late at night, so Darcy already missed one night’s sleep buying last-minute tickets out of Beijing. Then the flight was delayed several hours, and he hadn’t been able to purchase sleeping pills before the 20 hour flight black to San Diego. Then he had to drive to Merriton. Thankfully, his little sister was considering going to college there come fall, so he already had a condo.

William Darcy had been up for 52 hours straight, and time was now irrelevant. 

He drove through the city in a haze. He wasn’t sure if he should be driving (as his vision was starting to blur and only the lurch of his stomach kept him awake), so he parked his car somewhere (it could have been anywhere from Oz to Narnia for all he was paying attention) and stumbled out. He was supposed to meet Gina at the condo, but he was literally falling asleep standing up. 

William walked through the streets, one foot in front of the other. For some reason, the honking of cars was muted and shrill, and the sidewalk undulated so much he stumbled across cracks and against walls. 

Gritting his teeth, the man steadied himself. He adjusted his suit, and wondered lethargically why he had worn it. Something about a good impression. He couldn’t remember. His thoughts were honey through his brain.

Now he was in a store. He didn’t know how he got there. An empty coffee cup was in his hand.  _ Yes,  _ he thought,  _ Coffee. I can wake up. _

A pretty girl was muttering behind the counter. She looked like a nymph, with flowers blooming in her wild curls and deerlike spots framing her eyes. Wings sprouted from her back. Then Darcy blinked, and she was just another underpaid clerk, with freckles and messy hair. The ‘wings’ behind her morphed back into a poster for some 1990s rock band.  _ Shit. I’m hallucinating.  _

“How much for a coffee?” he managed to croak.

The sprite-like woman looked at him and answered in a sharp, foreign language. It sounded sweet and alluring, rhythmic to his ears. Oh. Wait. Was he hallucinating again? UGH. He didn’t have TIME for this! He didn’t have time to translate to himself and try and think at the same time. He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to recall his spanish lessons from grade school. 

The nymph was unimpressed. She glared at him, and flames danced in her rosy brown cheeks. Then she smiled, and Darcy’s world slid sideways. She started speaking, quickly, and in English. He still didn’t understand a word. 

She handed him his coffee (which smelled divine) and lingered by the register. Darcy remembered, oh, you had to pay for things you buy. On autopilot, he swiped his card. Then he made his way to the door, barely managing a “thank you” to the nymph behind the counter. 

She called after him, something about a door. Darcy thought her voice sounded like dandelions in the wind. Then he took a sip of the coffee. It was light and creamy, dark and pulsing against his tongue. It tasted like books and cello and pepper flakes. It was heady August nights and soft March mornings. It was the best damn coffee he had ever tasted. He was about to run back to the nymph, fall at her feet, praise her until heaven rained down around her-- then the door hit him on his way out. 

He fell to the ground. Coffee splashed all over the front of his suit. His jaw scraped against the sidewalk, the hells of his hands taking the brunt of the damage. The sudden movement made him nauseous, and he fell flat against the Earth, and wondered when it would stop spinning. 

He laid there, groaning for a bit. Then his guardian angel, smelling of coffee and donuts and everything wonderful, came to his rescue.


	5. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy helps Darcy. Kinda cute. introductions. Will post again soon :)

Lizzy didn’t want to pay attention to the asshole outside the front window. But he was just lying there, on the ground, not moving. After three minutes, she let out a long sigh, and went out to check on him.

The poor man looked like death itself. He may be a racist sonuvabitch, but he looked miserable. His eyes were glassy, his pale skin the color of mealworms, and he didn’t look like he was breathing too well.

“Hey,” Elize said, nudging him with her foot, “Hey dude? You okay there?”

He let out a strangled groan.

She bent down to his eye level. He stared back at her. Even looking like a pathetic grease stain on the sidewalk, he was good looking. It was annoying. She poked his nose. “Do you need help? Need a ride or something?” She grinned. “Do you speak English?”

“Mnneghhhhuhhmmm..”

“Hm? Interesting choice of word there, friend. What is that, Japanese?”

The man’s eyelids drooped, and he chuckled into the asphalt. “Funny… you’re funny..”

Lizzy was about to say some biting retort, when the man sat up with a look on his face. A look of  _ fear.  _ He tried to get to his feet, but before he could, he vomited on the sidewalk. 

Lizzy yelped, and leapt backward. Okay, she had  _ not  _ seen that coming.

The man continued to spew chunks by the curbside, and Lizzy ran into the store, searching frantically for some cleaning supplies. She grabbed a bottle of water, a roll of paper towels, and some disinfectant. Then she raced back outside.

The man had passed out next to the mess, which was a sickly orange color. Lizzy considered it, but the smell made her stomach want to go out and play, and besides, the man looked like he needed her immediate help. 

He was sprawled out on the sidewalk, his long legs curled up to one side. Thankfully, NOT in the vomit. He was big, and Lizzy was on the small side, but she managed to tug him over to the QuickaShack’s wall and prop him up against it. His head lolled. She slapped his cheek lightly.

“Oye, wake up man! We need to get you cleaned up! Come on!” He barely stirred. 

“Nmnnneghhhhggghhh,” came his response from crusted lips.

“OhthankGod,” she said, “You’re alive.”

The man blinked his eyes open. “Wh.. wha’ happened?” He smacked his lips, and grimaced comically. “Eyyuck.”

“You threw up,” Lizzy said matter of factly, crouching next to him with a paper towel, wiping away the mess from his mouth.

He moaned pathetically when she dabbed next at the coffee stain on his stomach, but tried hard to hide it. 

Lizzy clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Still a sensitive spot, huh? You must have eaten something that expired, like, last year.”

His eyes were moving in and out of focus through the ghost of a smile. “No.. I actually… stayed up for 2 days straight.”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” Lizzy asked sharply. “You’re not a grad student, are you?”

“N.. no. Jet lag.”

“Ah.”

She continued to dab at his mouth, trying to get all the gunk off. It smelled horrible, but with three younger sisters and a neighborhood toddler on the loose, she had almost gotten used to cleaning up gross things. He tried to wave her away, but couldn’t quite lift his hand. He looked like he was falling asleep right then and there.

“Hey…” She touched his shoulder. “Need me to call a cab or something? You don’t look fit to walk.”

The suit man blinked and shook his head. “Uh, call Bingley. He’s.. I was supposed to… to meet him for din.. Dinner.”

Bingley. That name sounded familiar, but Lizzy couldn’t think of anyone who fit it. “Um, do you have his number?”

“‘S on m’phone..”

With a sloppy, uncoordinated move, he pulled a sleek, modern looking iPhone out of his suit pocket. He dropped it, and didn’t seem to have the energy to pick it up. Lizzy obliged.

“Passcode’s 3W4I-8L9L..” he mumbled, as if it was common knowledge. 

Lizzy repeated the string of digits to herself, opened the phone, and checked for contacts. When she searched “binglee,” the name Charles “pup” Bingley popped up. She hit call. She waited for a while while it rang, her hand on Darcy’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t nod off again.

Finally, someone picked up. “Hey, Darcy old man! I’ve been waiting for your call! Hey-- what do you think about using the Case Lodge property for—”

“Excuse me,” Lizzy interrupted, “But I’m not Darcy.”

“Oh.” A confused pause. “But it says it's his number?”

“Yeah, still not Darcy. Look— your friend came into the store I’m working out, acted.. Kind spacey and dead, then tripped, vomited, and passed out. I cleaned him up a bit, he’s.. In bad shape. He needs somebody to come get him.”

“Oh my gosh,” the Bingley guy said, “Tell him I’ll be right over.”

The call disconnected, then immediately he buzzed her back. 

“Um,” he said, “What’s the address?”

She gave it to him, and then hung up. She sighed. “Okay, your friend’s gonna be here soon.”

The man in the suit gurgled, and looked at her hand on his shoulder through half-closed lids. Lizzy had been unconsciously rubbing soothing circles into his back. She had forgotten, for a minute, that he had been a dick. But then again, he already looked like he’d been punished enough for one day. It didn’t excuse his behavior, but it softened the blow, just a bit. 

“What’s your name?” She asked, when she realized she still was thinking of him only as ‘the asshat in the suit’.

“Will..iam…” The man murmured into his collar.

“Okay, cool. Nice to meet you, Will. I’m Lizzy.”

His lips pooched out in a grimace. “Don’t.. cah..call me Will.. I hate that nick..name.”

“Well, I’m definitely gonna call you that _now.”_

He chuckled, then looked sick again. Lizzy scooted backwards. “Are you gonna puke again?”

“No.. I just… my mouth tastes bad..”

Lizzy handed him the water bottle but his fingers slipped off of the plastic and nearly dropped the bottle.

“Woah, hey there,” Lizzy said softly, and held the bottle up to his mouth, “Just relax. But probably don’t sleep yet. I won’t be able to carry you.”

Will sucked down the water with grateful gusto. Lizzy held it up to, cupping his chin with one hand so he didn’t spill. He murmured low in his throat to indicate when he was finished, and Lizzy took the bottle away. “Thanks.. Liz.. zy..” Will smiled, softly. Lizzy tried not to stare. He had a really nice smile. 

Soon a Chevy pulled up and a man stepped out. He had grey-blue eyes and ginger hair that bordered on cinnamon. He also had a jawline that could cut through steel and a soft look about him in his tight button-down dress shirt.  _ Wowza.. _

On her side, Will groaned. “No.. no.. I was supposed… tuh.. To make a good impression,” he grumbled pathetically. 

Lizzy patted him on the back. “Well, there’s always next time.”

“Holy crud!” the stranger said, hopping out and running over to them, “Is he okay?”

“‘M fine, Charles...”

The man, Charles, winced first at his friend, then at the vomit on the sidewalk. “Yikes, you weren’t kidding about him being in bad shape,” he said to Lizzy.

“Yeah, he needs to sleep.” She shot Will a pointed look. “And NOT on the sidewalk.”

Will grumbled a laugh. “Funny…,” he said, smiling slightly to Charles, “She’s funny..”

Charles looked even more concerned. “Okay buddy, let’s get you home.”

“I was suh..supposed to make a… a good impression…”

“Yeah, I know. C’mon.”

Charles (who was stronger than he looked, apparently), hoisted the big man to his feet, and started shuffling them both to the car. Lizzy watched them go, before remembering something.

“Hold on a sec!” She called after them, before racing inside. In the QuickaSnack, she grabbed another bottle of water, some Tums, an energy bar, more paper towels, and a pack of altoids. She threw the stuff into a bag and thrust it into Charles’ hands. “Here,” she said, “He’ll appreciate it.”

Charles smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you so much for helping him. You’re a good person.”

Lizzy snickered. “No, I’m not. But hopefully he feels better soon regardless.”

He nodded, a bit confused, and got into the car. “Thanks again! Have a wonderful day!”

“You too!” She said, then waved at the man slumped in the passenger seat. “Bye, Will!”

“Bye, Lizzy,” he mumbled back, before flashing her a white-hot sideways grin. Then he slouched against the seat, closed his eyes, and was promptly asleep. The car drove off, and Lizzy watched it go.

_ Huh,  _ she thought to herself.  _ That just happened.  _

Then she sighed, cleared her mind, and paid for the items after cleaning up the mess on the sidewalk. The rest of the day passed without incident, and, for some strange reason, her anger at Will-the-Prick had abated, and she was left with a sense of.. Acute unfulfillment. Like she had to see him again, and make sure he was okay. But that was crazy talk. They were just strangers, after all.


	6. Recovery (ft. Little Sis)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets better. Gina bugs him about someone. He gets roped into going on a college tour, with a funny coincidence...

It took William Darcy about a week to fully recover, though he didn’t remember the first three days. After he passed out in the car and Charles brought him back to the Darcy condo, his memory got hazy. He kept hallucinating, or maybe he was dreaming. He kept seeing Lizzy, that pretty girl who had helped him in the convenience store. She would be laughing, crying, screaming, smiling. She would be holding him tightly, pushing him away. He saw her in a barrage of what felt like memories, the only constant being that she was watching him, her eyes locked on his. 

William didn’t remember what color they were, but they were beautiful.

Someone was touching his face. He leaned into their hand, his eyes tightly shut. “H..hello..?” he whispered hoarsely, “L-lizzy?”

Then he managed to open his eyes, and it wasn’t the girl from the store, but his sister, leaning over him with a deeply worried expression.

“Oh thank God,” she said, “You’re awake.”

“Gina? Wh.. what are you doing here?” Darcy yawned, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He could still feel fatigue settling deep within his bones, but the need to sleep wasn’t as pressing as it had been.

His little sister scoffed. “I’ve been here for hours, William. I’m surprised you just noticed.”

Groaning, he sat up and said, “Jesus, how long have I been out?”

“Drifting in and out of sleep for about 2 days. Charles has been force feeding you protein bars and milkshakes,” Gina supplied. 

“Gah,” Darcy gagged, just now realizing the unmistakable taste of starch that lingered around his molars.

“Sooo… who’s Lizzy?”

Darcy reddened. “I, um, n-no one.”

“Really,” Gina asked, eyebrows raised.

He blew all the air out of his lungs, and crossed his arms. “I… I don’t even know her. She was working at the convenience store where I.. um, crashed. She was… sort of... pretty.”

“High praise,” She said dryly. “You must have  _ really _ liked her.”

Darcy blushed lightly and shrugged. So, she had been a pretty girl. Noticing someone attractive wasn’t a crime; he shouldn’t be teased for it. He told her so, but Gina just smirked at him. 

_ “Still.  _ I’m your sister— It’s my job to tease you!”

He smiled indulgently at her. It had been a while since he had seen her; even longer since he had seen her this happy. “What’s with you today?” Darcy asked, chuckling a bit. 

Gina bounced up and down and had the grace to look a little guilty. “Well..,” she hedged, “Since you're feeling better… I thought later we could go on a college tour! I’m really excited about it!!”

Darcy was about to reply, ‘Do you really need me for that?’ before his brain caught up to his tongue, and his jaw clamped shut. Gina really  _ did  _ need him for this. What was he doing? He hadn’t forgotten about his responsibility to her since she was in high school. Since they got the call about the tragic car crash, and the Darcys became a family of two. God, he really was sleep deprived, if he had forgotten THAT. 

Gina misunderstood the setting of his jaw, and wilted pitifully. “Okay,” she said softly, “I’ll just… go…”

“WAIT, Gina,” Darcy said, cursing himself for making her doubt herself (even for an instant). “I’d love to go with you.”

His efforts were rewarded with a sunshine smile. “Thanks, Will!” She squealed, kissing his forehead and bounding out of the room.

“Yeah yeah yeah, AND DON’T CALL ME WILL!” he called after her. 

Then he collapsed onto the bed again, and let himself fall back asleep, after a few minutes of staring at his ceiling, and contemplating nothing at all.

* * *

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!!”

Darcy laughed, and allowed himself to be pulled along and out of the door by his overly exuberant sister. 

“Gina, we’re not going to be late! We’re only three minutes behind schedule!”

“You don’t know that!” she hissed over her shoulder, “Now c’mon!! We gotta get there!”

She dragged Darcy down the halls of Merriton University, pulling him around chairs and skirting around classrooms. Soon, they were at the designated meeting place: a large, circular desk in the middle of the first floor. At the desk, a note was propped up, saying that someone would be with the tour group shortly. Gina gave Darcy a look like ‘WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE EARLY’. He shrugged at her, unconcerned and smiling.

Darcy felt better today. He was still tired, but it was the manageable kind. The kind that he experienced on a regular basis. He was no longer passing out on an hourly basis. He still didn’t feel up to smalltalk (he never did [even with his sister]) so he just milled around on the edge of the room, periodically checking his watch. His good mood dissipated as the minutes ticked by. Fifteen ticked by before someone came to get them.

It was a relatively thin woman, who was pale and just beginning to show signs of age. Her blonde hair was fading to the color of smoke, but she gave off the sense of once being a great beauty. She was wringing her hands and gave Darcy a nervous twitch of a smile.

“H-hello,” she stuttered, “Are you here for the college tour?”

“Yes,” Darcy answered (somewhat coldly). “It was scheduled for 4:15.”

“Oh dearie me, I’m so sorry, our tour guide fell ill and had to cancel. I’m afraid we don’t exactly have someone who can show you around at the moment.”

Gina’s face fell lower with every word. She bit her lower lip, but Darcy could tell it was trembling. “Isn’t there anyone who can give the tour? We’ll pay,” he said.

“Oh, um,” The woman stammered, “I’m new, and I don’t exactly know my way around yet, but I’m sure I can—”

She caught sight of someone down the hallway, and an expression of great relief fell over her features. “Ah! Ms Bennít! Over here!”

A young woman with wild curls and a rusty brown jacket jogged over. Darcy glanced at her, then did a double take. It was _ her. _ He was sure of it. The heart-shaped face, the smattering of freckles against her toasted blush, the petite hands that clutched at her backpack straps. 

“Hey, wasn’t the agreement that you call me by my real name, and I call you yours, Jen?” The girl asked with a grin, oblivious to Darcy. 

“Oh, right, sorry Liz. But um, are you free right now?”

“Sure, why?”

The lady wrung her hands again. “I need a favor.”

Lizzy flashed her a great big grin, and Darcy remembered how beautiful her smile was. “Anything for you, Jenna!” She chirped, though Darcy could tell she meant it. 

“Good good,” Jenna said, “The tour guide came down with the flu this weekend—”

“Oh no! Is Frankie okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine, but we had a tour scheduled for today, and I was wondering if you could…”

Finally Lizzy glanced their way, and her pretty smile arranged itself into a little ‘oh’ shape. She shakily raised one hand and halfway smiled. Darcy did the same. Lizzy walked forward. 

“Hi, Will. How’re you doing?” She asked, almost shyly.

“Much better, thank you,” he answered, just as shyly, but in an unemotional tone.

Gina looked between them, her blue eyes wide as saucers. “Um, hello,” she interjected, “Not to be rude, but… do you know my brother?”

Lizzy shook herself out of it and turned to the younger girl, smiling. “Yes, actually. We met a while ago. I’m honestly kind of surprised he remembers me though, he was.. not at his best, last I saw him.” 

Gina squealed loudly, finally making the connection. “OMIGOSH, you’re THAT Lizzy!!”

“Uh. Yes?”

“I’m so excited to meet you!!”

Lizzy looked between Gina and Will, the left side of her mouth twitching upwards. She allowed one eyebrow to raise in his direction. Darcy grimaced a grin, and wished he could slap a hand over his sister’s mouth without drawing attention to it.

“Well, it seems like you’ve got this handled, Liz,” The older woman said. “I’ll leave you to it! Just come back here when you’re done, and I’ll get their forms ready.”

She nodded, and the lady slipped behind the desk and fished out some files to work on. Gina and Will were watching her, expectant and intrigued (respectively).

“Alright then,” Lizzy said, clapping her hands and grinning genuinely, “Let’s get started!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it took so long for me to post. I have so many ideas for this fic, but unfortunately— it’s finals week. I’ll try and post consistently, but just know that I’ll only go back to every day after next week. Thank you for understanding, and thanks for reading!   
>  ~Vinny 🌺


	7. The Most Awkward Tour Ever - Chap. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy takes the Darcy sibling on a tour of the college. (Why is it so awkward? It shouldn’t be awkward. Right?) Cute interactions featuring: Gina being oblivious. Long chapter.   
> 🌼  
> Also, I thought it was a nice coincidence with LBD universe and its 7th episode :) and also also, I’m already working on the next chapter (a DOOZIE, that one)

There were many ways that Elize had planned to spend her free period. Checking her email, chatting with friends, sneaking food from the cafeteria… the possibilities were myriad. However, previously, when she had considered her options, she had NOT thought of ‘showing that racist(?) sleep-deprived dude who threw up last week around campus for his little sister’. Shocker, I know.

And it got worse. As soon as they stepped outside onto the campus, Lizzy realized she had absolutely no idea where to start. She tried to buy some time. “So.. you already know  _ my  _ name, but what’s yours?” Lizzy asked the small blonde.

She blushed. “Oh, um, my real name’s Georgiana, but I go by Gina. Gina Darcy.”

“That’s cool! I love nicknames,” she smiled. “Oh! You’ll never guess what Lizzy is short for!”

Gina tapped her chin and hummed. “Well.. Elizabeth would be too simple.. Lisa? Lizelle?”

“Nope and nope.”

“What?”

She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. She tried not to notice how Will leaned in too, just slightly.  _ “Elize.  _ Elize Valentina Bennít. Has a nice ring to it, dontcha think?”

Gina nodded. Will just looked at her. Lizzy, feeling a tad awkward, started to babble, just a bit.

“I got it from my dad. I dunno why he picked it, I just think he wanted to call me Lizzy without other nicknames getting in the way. I don’t think I like it though; too many people assuming my name isn’t my name. And Valentina sounds stupid and girly. All together, it sounds like I’m a salsa dancer or a romance novel protagonist or something.” She laughed, nervously.

“I think it sounds lovely,” Will said. 

“Thank you,” Lizzy said.

They both looked away from each other, both wondering frantically why he had said that. Instead of breaking the ice, as Lizzy had hoped to do, it was now at least 10x thicker. Frozen solid. Awkward all the way through.

Gina didn’t seem to notice, and broke it anyway.

“Hah! I bet you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re jealous!”

Will reddened, and Lizzy raised her eyebrows. “Jealous.. of what?” She asked, a smile in her voice.

“Gina, don’t—,” Will tried to say, but she cut him off. “My  _ brother here is _ named WILLIAM FITZWILLIAM.”

“—say it,” he finished, belatedly. Lizzy cackled and he covered his face, groaning. 

“You’re totally right,” she giggled, “that’s MUCH worse.”

“C-can we just move on?” His face was red. Lizzy always forgot how much white people could blush; he  _ legitimately _ looked like a tomato.

“Okay, fine,” Lizzy said, pausing slightly. “...William Fitzwilliam.” Then she snapped back into her comfort zone, and forgot all about the awkwardness. “So! Let’s start the tour!”

Lizzy took them out of the first floor, down the small set of stairs (carefully, as she had made the immense mistake of wearing heels that day), two rights and a quick left, and out into the plaza behind the main building. 

“This,” she said, swinging her arms, “Is Brokenhaert Plaza! The special retreat for everyone— broken heart or no!”

Gina oohed and ahhed appreciatively, and even Will looked a little impressed. As they should! 

The plaza was decorated with fuchsia flowers and tissue-paper thin poppies. Trees stretched great hydra heads of branches tangled up into the sky, bursts of leaves and reddish berries decorating the ashen wood. Wind chimes and stained glass hung from every twig. Tall grass and stones lined the walkways. Some stones were painted with little affirmations, flags, and rainbows. Sand and wildflowers dotted the square. Old wormwood benches sat intermittent and aging, as if  _ they _ needed a rest more than anyone. Succulents lined the walls along with wisteria; vines of honeysuckle clung to the brick walls and marble archways. The whole plaza was alive and explosive with color, art, and emotion.

Damn right they should be impressed.

Brokenhaert Plaza was one of the Crown Jewels of Merriton. It had been a garden, found by pioneers in the early 1860s— whoever had planted it had long since left it abandoned. It was kept as an oddity until the town of Haertford had sprung up, and the college was built. By that time though, it had fallen into disrepair, thus, it was called BROKENhaert Plaza. Thankfully, Merriton University had seen to it that it was fixed up a bit, with all the students adding their own little touches.

Lizzy told the siblings all of this, and they listened attentively.

“Wow!” Gina said, “So you have no idea who first made it?”

“Well..,” Lizzy responded, struggling to remember her own college tour, “We think it may have been just a patch of wildflowers. Like, naturally occurring? But some people think it was the Chumash people, or some other native tribe. I just think it’s beautiful. It’s the perfect study space.”

She indicated a small study group, perched in a semicircle on the lawn a few yards away. “So yeah, Brokenhaert plaza is one of the best places on campus. You like it?”

“Like it? I LOVE IT,” Gina gushed. “It’s so WHIMSICAL! It feels like a summertime daydream! I just…” She breathed in a great gulp of air, happiness diffusing across her features. “I love it.”

“Glad to hear you feel that way,” Lizzy smiled, “But you should probably save LOVE for when you’ve seen more of the campus. There are lots of cool places, with lots of.. whimsical aesthetics.”

“Oh I bet,” Gina grinned, “I’m majoring in Music (performance and theory), but I want to see it ALL! You know. Keep my options open.” 

She looked at her brother, as if for approval. He nodded, and her smile grew a bit wider. It made Lizzy wonder a bit about their relationship, but she didn’t prod. “Yeah, that’s a good plan,” she just said, “Best to try it all and make up your mind after.”

“Is that really the best plan of action when it comes to higher education? Wouldn’t that just waste time?”

Lizzy had a much harder time not glaring at Will than she should have. “I mean in the first year of college. You aren’t supposed to know your life’s plan at the ripe old age of 18. You need to try stuff out— experiment.”

“What if you already know what you’re going to do? Wouldn’t extracurriculars simply be a burden then?”

“If by a  _ burden _ you mean giving a semblance of meaning to life other than employment, then yes.”

“Isn’t college’s purpose to prepare for employment?” Will asked, clearly enjoying riling her up. His stupid perfect face was all smug and pleased and blushing (that last one was a bit weird, but she chalked it up to him being proud of himself). Lizzy wanted to punch it. She huffed, and shot him a poisonous look. “It is not.. the sole purpose.”

He rolled his eyes a bit, and Lizzy decided to hate him.

Then he caught the genuinely frustrated look on her face, and something changed in his. A softening of his features, a twitch of the lips, a fleeting look of regret and hope mingling about his dark brown eyes. A look of.. an unnamed emotion, twisted and ambiguous, sweet and soft, covered the scowling mask he had donned from the beginning of the tour. Lizzy was looking away. She missed it entirely. 

Will opened his mouth, as if to say something perfectly timed and kindly apologetic and charmingly clever, but he was cut off before a single word could form.

“Ooh! So what’s that?”

Lizzy grinned at Gina. The over excited girl reminded her of her little sisters— before they were poisoned by social media and puberty. “That’s the observatory,” she said, pointing, “It’s open from dusk ‘til midnight, but usually it’s only used by astronomy classes and some poetry clubs, but during astronomical events like an eclipse or meteor shower or the solstice, it gets really busy.”

“How does a school as small as Merriton keep up the funding? It seems… not particularly useful,” Will said, helpfully.

Seeing the look on Lizzy’s face however (and remembering how crummy he felt when she was angry with him before), he amended his statement. “I mean, is it a donation program? I’m just interested in the reasoning behind the building’s grandeur,” he clarified hastily.

Lizzy sighed, and tried not to get angry with him again. This time, she succeeded. He was making an effort, at least. She could appreciate that.

“Actually, Merriton holds regular fundraisers— festivals and the like. They’re some of the most renowned events in this county, and the ones surrounding it. The money from those funds most of our ‘not particularly useful’ extracurriculars.”

“OH,” she said loudly, turning with a grin to Gina, “We’re actually holding a banquet this Friday! I think to celebrate… actually, I don’t know what. I guess it’s just a party to celebrate the summer.”

Will bit his tongue. It hurt like crazy, but he was glad he did it. Otherwise, he would have scoffed, and said something demeaning about small town hicks and their excitable, savage nature, and thoroughly ruined any amiability he may have bridged with Lizzy. Why he WANTED friendly feelings between them— he didn’t know. All he knew is that he wanted to be in her good graces. And after living a life of being a lone wolf, partner to none, wanting someone to like— NEEDING someone to like him was… disconcerting. 

Gina was not so indecisive. “What do you do there? If there’s free food, I’m totes in.”

“Oh yeah,” Lizzy laughed, “There’s LOTS of food. It’ll probably be a potluck thing. Also, lots of music, dancing, people…”

(Some of William Darcy’s least favorite things)

“...and lots of cute clothes and other party stuff! Alcohol, for those who can drink.” She glanced at Will, smirking conspiratorially. “It’s in moderation, there will be ID required, but for the older of us it numbs the pain of awkward dancing. Don’t worry.”

He was touched that she had noticed his discomfort at the mention of alcohol. He smiled at her. She smiled back. For some odd reason, time seemed to stop. Then Gina shattered the moment.

“Oooh!” She squealed happily, “That sounds awesome!! William and I with ABSOLUTELY be there!”

“Great! I’ll give you my number after the tour, and I can text you all the info you need.”

With that, the tour continued, but the elder Darcy was no longer listening. He was absorbed in his thoughts, thinking about how, since he was normally one of the least social people alive and avoided any kind of party like the plague (ESPECIALLY in a new place), he was… almost.. kinda… sort of… maybe looking forward to this one.


	8. Ending the Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the tour. Will/Lizzy fluff. Also, random dialogue and fun. Longer chapter. Enjoy! :)

Lizzy felt like the rest of the tour passed fairly smoothly. She showed Gina the cafeteria (“though usually we all just eat the QuickaShack. Now I’m not just saying this because I work there…”), the library (“my PERSONAL favorite place on campus..”), the STEM building (“I only know it ‘cause some of my friends are there..”), and finally took her back to the main building, where most classes were held. 

The whole tour, Will Darcy was… surprisingly not-an-ass. He would disagree with her, debate her on all opinions, but he would do so in a way that made it clear he was JUST stating his opinion. He wasn’t rude about it at all, and he actually brought up some pretty good points. Will was starting to become someone.. Elize could almost see herself… becoming friends with. Yeah. That sounded right. Being friends.

“Ughhh,” Gina groaned, “I can’t  _ believe _ I have to wait until FALL to go here.”

“Well, you have to be accepted first,” her brother replied, sensibly.

“Oh I was already accepted. I’m on the waitlist for a dorm.”

“....”

“William? William, breathe!”

Will looked like he had been hit with a frying pan. Lizzy covered a giggle as he staggered back (dramatically). “WHAT?!” He shouted, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

“Eh,” Gina shrugged, “Didn’t seem like a big deal.”

“THAT IS A VERY BIG DEAL OH MY GOD.”

Gina turned to Lizzy, grinning. “Isn’t it cute how excited he gets?”

“Very,” she smirked. 

William immediately blushed and got a hold of himself. “I… I am just very happy for you,” he choked out. 

“I can tell,” Gina and Lizzy said archly, in perfect unison. They looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Lizzy said, still choking on giggles, “I can tell we’re gonna get along JUST fine.”

“I’m glad,” Gina smiled. Will watched the exchange with a silly little half-grin. He looked inexplicably pleased. Then he furrowed his brow. 

“Wait, a dorm?” Will said, just catching up, “We have a condo in town; why aren’t you using that?”

“Oh. I, um…,” she grinned sheepishly, “I know you’re gonna be staying in town for a while… and.. I… wanted to get the full college experience. Ya know?”

Will looked like he _didn’t_ know, but kept his mouth shut. Lizzy broke the ensuing silence, not willing to suffer through another awkward pause.

“So, you’re staying in Haertford for awhile? Any.. particular reason?”

Will glanced at her. “My job. New project.”

“Okaayyy…,” Lizzy tried again, “What do you do?”

“Corporate lawyer for Austen. Real estate company. I’m working with a colleague of mine to start some project in town. Haven’t gotten all the details yet.”

“Cool,” she responded, not really knowing what else to say. Then she realized they were approaching the first floor starting point, and subsequently, the end of the tour. And then she smiled.

“Well, if you’re gonna be hangin’ around, I’ll probably see you more around town! Don’t be a stranger, Will!”

As she was saying this, her head was turned towards him, and she was attempting to go up the small staircase into the main building. Her heel caught on the first step, and broke under her. She was rocketing towards the sidewalk, when strong hands wrapped around her waist and neck, and suddenly she wasn’t falling anymore.

Lizzy looked up into Will’s face, inches away from hers, breathing hard. His breath tasted like lemonade and minty gum. He had caught her in a dip, with her fingers clutching at the front of his shirt, and one of his hands tangled in her curls, cradling her head. They stared at each other, for a second.

“I HEAR  _ WEDDING BELLS,” _ a deep voice rang out from across the way. 

Will turned red again, and Lizzy groaned a laugh. He set her down gingerly, and Lizzy stood with her weight on her not-broken shoe. 

“Hey Mr G,” she said, rolling her eyes in an affectionate sort of way.

“Now Lizzy,” the older man said, wagging a finger at her teasingly, “Don’t go missing your shifts to run off with a new boytoy.”

She shouted a laugh, not noticing her ‘boytoy’s.. almost... wounded expression. “God no! I was just giving a campus tour. Frankie was out sick.”

“Oh, is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Anyway, meet Gina and William Darcy! They’re new to town, and gonna be staying a while.”

“Aah,” Mr G said, putting out his hand, “Well, I’m Mr Don Gardiner. I own the convenience store in Haertford.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said a shaken Will, deftly putting his hand in the man’s. 

“Anyway, sorry to break up your tour, I was just looking for my clerk.”

“But I don’t have a shift today until 6:45?”

Mr G waved his hand. “Ah nah, I wasn’t talking about the store. Ronnie’s waiting for you though. He had a bad day, and wanted his favorite gal to cheer him up.” He winked at Lizzy, completely unaware of how Will’s face clouded over.

“Oh sure, I’ll be right there,” Lizzy said, “Tell him I’m comin, okay?”

“Will do. Have fun with the newbies! Glad to have you in Haertford, miss. Sir.”

With that Mr G tipped an imaginary hat, and started to saunter off, only to stop short when a voice from the stairs caused him to turn.

“OH, Liz, there you are! I was wondering where you had gone.” 

Dr Jenna Lawrence had come out to find the tour group, fidgeting with her skirt and smiling nervously, when she too, stopped short, captivated by something (someONE) behind them.

“H-hi..,” he said.

“Hello,” she said, blushing. Neither could stop staring at the other.

“Pardon me asking, miss, but.. have we met?” Mr G asked, his eyes wide.

“No, I don’t believe we have,” she smiled shyly. “I’m Dr Jennafir Lawrence, but all my friends call me Jenna.”

“My name’s Don… Don Gardiner. All my friends call me ‘whatshisface’.”

Dr Lawrence giggled like a schoolgirl, and tucked her hair behind one ear. “I think I’ll just stick with Don.”

He beamed at her, enchanted. “That sounds perfect.”

Lizzy, watching the exchange with no small amount of wonder and amusement, turned back to the Darcy siblings. “Wow, okay,” she said in a stage whisper, “I.. think that concludes our tour.”

Gina grumbled a good-natured pout. “Ughh, I wish classes would just START already! I love it here.”

Lizzy chuckled. “Actually, you might be in luck. Merriton offers some summer programs you can sign up for! If you do them, not only will you be on campus with extra homework over the summer, but you’ll see ME around!” 

She flipped her hair and struck a pose. Gina laughed, but looked genuinely interested. “That sounds awesome! When can I start??”

“Here, can I see your phone? I’ll give you my number and send you the info later tonight.”

Gina patted her pockets, then looked up, crestfallen. “Oh God, I forgot it at home…”

“Uh, don’t worry,” Will interjected, “You can put it into mine.”

“Cool,” Lizzy smiled, taking the device from him. She had memorized the password the last time she had seen him, just in case he passed out before Charles came, and so she punched in the code with no hesitation. 3W4I-8L9L. She giggled to herself. If you made the numbers into keypad lettering, it could be FWII-TLZL. Rearranged, FITZ-WILL. Clever.

She looked up, and caught both Darcy siblings looking at her with a mix of awe and shock. “...what?” She asked.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT?!” Gina screeched, before getting her voice under control. “I- I mean… William NEVER tells ANYONE his passcode. Even ME.”

“Oh.” Lizzy grinned. “Want me to tell you it?”

“No!” Will said hurriedly. “D-don’t tell her.”

“Okay,” she shrugged, “And by the way, I’m not a hacker or anything. You just gave it to me when you threw up last week.”

Gina giggled. “God, William. You must have been REALLY out of it.”

“Yeah, he was,” Lizzy grinned back. “Aaaand, here. My number.” She handed the phone back to Will. He took it without breaking eye contact. His eyes were telling her something, but she didn’t know what.

She cleared her throat. “So, um, I should probably get going…”

“Can I walk you back?” Will asked, strangely eager.

Lizzy glanced at him bewilderedly. “Um, yeah, sure. It’s like 20 minutes though..”

“Great,” he said, turning to Gina, “Meet me back at the condo later, okay?”

“Okay,” the girl chirped, giving Lizzy a weirdly knowing smile, “See you around, Lizzy!”

“Um, bye,” Lizzy replied, but the blonde was already gone. “Soooo,” she said, turning awkwardly to the taller man. She held up the heel that had broken off her shoe. “I don’t think I can walk real good right now.”

He looked at the heel, eyebrows knitting together. You could almost see the cogs and wheels turning inside his brain. Then Will’s dark eyes flicked back to her, and he grinned somewhat sheepishly. “Well, uh.. you can take off your shoes and wear mine.”

Lizzy glanced at his feet dubiously. “I don’t think you’re my size.”

He coughed, possibly to hide a laugh. “I know, but since I’m wearing padded socks...” He ignored her lifted eyebrows, “I’ll be able to walk on the sidewalk without shoes— no problem. You, however, won’t. Even if you slide around in them a lot, at least you won’t get cut by broken glass.”

Lizzy was about to fire back that Haertford was a really nice city, and there WAS no broken glass just LYING in the street, but then he was already sliding off his loafers, and she realized he was being.. sweet…. in a pushy sort of way.

_ “Fine ,”  _ she sighed, slipping on the much-too-big shoes, after taking off her now useless heels, “But let the record show I’m not happy about it!”

Will smiled at her, fully. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

By the time she looked up though, his face had already reverted back to stoic, and the soft tone was gone. “Alright, ready?”

“Ready,” she said. Lizzy tried not to notice how warm the loafers were, and how little she minded it. 

“Then let’s go.”

And with that, they were off.


	9. Walking Back to Ronnie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what it says on the tin. Cute banter, blushing, awkward conversations, and Ronnie. Almost twice as long as normal, but heck, screw my finals, I can splurge a little ;)

The first ten minutes of the walk back to the QuickaSnack were spent in silence. For Elize, it was awkward, and he brain kept circling back to the fact that this big-shot lawyer was traipsing around town in socks while she wore his shoes. That.. just doesn’t happen every day. On Darcy’s end, his mind was still stuck on the moment when he had caught her on the Merriton steps.

Everything had blurred together (it had only been a second or two after all), but for some odd reason, one thing seemed frozen in time. Her eyes. He had finally caught a real glimpse of them. And they were more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. 

They were a pale, graying emerald, the color of ponds and mist and pine needles surrounded by the barest hints of golden autumn. That is to say, they were grey-green, with hazel flecks. They seemed to explode with life, wide and slanting and expressive in a way he was not eloquent enough to describe. They pinned him down and lifted him up, piercing him with their cool green gaze.  _ Magnificent.  _

“So you’re really bad at the whole small talk thing, huh?”

“Huhuh—,” Darcy said, stumbling as he was brought out of his thoughts, “Pardon?”

Lizzy grinned at him. “We’re already halfway back, do you really want to just keep staring in silence? No talking at all?”

_ Yes.  _ “No.” Darcy cleared his throat. “So, um, what do you want to talk about?”

She chuckled, her gorgeous eyes rolling amusedly. “Dude, I don’t know! Whatever you want to talk about!”

“Okay. But don’t call me  _ dude.” _

“But of course, my liege.”

“Not that either.”

“Begging your pardon, your grace.”

“Stop that!”

“As you wish, o captain my captain.”

They walked in silence for a bit more. Finally, Darcy spoke up. “Was that a Walt Whitman reference?”

“Maybe.” She smiled cheekily. “Or maybe just Dead Poets Society.”

“Wasn’t Dead Poets Society  _ referencing _ Walt Whitman?”

“Yes,” Lizzy hummed, “But I think Robin Williams is better than Whitman, any day.”

“I might have to dispute you on that.”

Lizzy gasped. “WHAT?! YOU DON’T LIKE ROBIN WILLIAMS??”

Darcy, a little taken aback, held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Um, well, I uh, only ever really saw him in… that and Jumanji. I.. I appreciated his performance, but… not… a lot..?”

“Oh my god,” Lizzy said, facepalming, “I HAVE to send you some of his comedy acts. They’re kinda… above the PG, but they’re  _ FUNNY AS HELL. _ Seriously. You’re missing out.”

She stopped walking for a minute. “Wait. You… that’s all you’ve seen him in?”

“Yyyyeah? Why?”

Her inhumanly gorgeous eyes were saucer-wide. “YOU’VE NEVER SEEN  _ ALADDIN?!” _

Darcy didn’t answer. That was enough.

Lizzy went on an entire rant about how although she didn’t agree with the terrible attempt at cultural appropriation and the shady morals of the main character, all of Robin William’s lines had been improvised, and his performance was too good to miss. This diatribe took up most of the walk back. By the end, Darcy was grinning ear to ear. It was cute how worked up she got.

“RIGHT?!?”

“Right,” he agreed, though not really sure what to. “I think we’re almost there.”

“Oh,” Lizzy said, coming to stop to peer down the block to the QuickaShack. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Clearly,” Darcy replied, decidedly NOT laughing. 

“Oh, Hey!” She exclaimed, grabbing his hand to get his attention (which she already had [Darcy tried very hard not to linger on the pleasant tingles her touch sent up his arm]), “You should stick around for a bit! Ronnie’ll want to meet you!”

At the mention of another guy, Darcy’s stomach dropped.  _ Of course. Lizzy was too much of a knock-out to be single. Just his luck. And now she wanted him to meet ‘Ronnie’? No thank you!  _

“Um, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind delaying the pleasure,” Darcy said, quickly.

“Oh, _Pshaw_ ,” Lizzy snorted, linking her arm through his and dragging him along, “No excuses!  _ I’m  _ sure he’ll love you. He always likes when I bring friends around.”

_ Shit, she only saw him as a friend,  _ Darcy thought miserably to himself as he was pulled down the sidewalk (by a woman who was probably three heads shorter than him)  _ His luck was just IMMACULATE today.  _

He balked at the idea of meeting this guy. The awkwardness would just be TOO MUCH. “No, no,” he said, “I’d just be a third wheel. Wouldn’t want to make things awkward for you two.”

Lizzy glanced at him, and recognition dawned in her eyes. Then her smile became a little bit more mischievous, or maybe that was just his imagination. “But I want you to meet my special guy!” She cried, batting her eyes, “He’s sooooo cute! And I just  _ love  _ to cuddle with him and hug him and kiss his little face—“

“Jesus,” Darcy murmured, blushing violently and feeling his stomach turn knots. “Details are not needed, Lizzy.”

They were almost to the QuickaSnack now. Last chance to turn back. Then Lizzy (who had been carefully avoiding eye contact) took one look at her companion’s face, and burst out laughing.

_ “Puta madre,  _ I can’t believe you fell for that!!”

“What? Fall for what?”

“Ronnie isn’t my  _ boyfriend,” _ she chortled, “He’s like  _ four years old!  _ He's like a little brother to me!”

“Ohhhhh,” Darcy said, relieved beyond measure.

“Pfffft, you were so surprised!” 

“Yeah, I was,” he smiled. Her nose scrunching in a way that made him desperately want to kiss it. He coughed and looked away.

“Me and all my sisters help out with Ronnie whenever we can,” Lizzy explained at length, “He’s still in pre-k, but since Mr G’s so busy with the store (he has custody of Ronnie by the way), we all take turns looking after him. He’s so sweet. He’s like the baby brother I never had.”

“That’s nice,” he said, and meant it.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Then, just a few more steps, and they were in the QuickaSnack, and Lizzy was tackled by a blur of Hulk T-shirts and light up sketchers. “LIZZZZZZYYYYYY!!!” 

She fell back, wrestling the tiny boy off of her, tickling and shouting with laughter as he tickled back.  _ “Ronnie, Ronnie, stop, please,”  _ she screamed, breathless with laughter as the little kid found the prime tickling spots. 

“NEVEEEER,” he screamed back.

Darcy watched with a mix of shock and interest.  _ No one _ in his family had  _ ever _ done something like this out of the blue. It was… cute.

Finally, the little boy rolled off of her, and Darcy got his first good look at him (and vice versa). 

To Darcy, what stood before him was an abstract portrait of carefree youth— clashing colors, mismatched socks, a front tooth missing, and a short-clipped haircut on the boy’s oversized head. His skin was the color of decaf, and he had a bandaid over one knuckle. Tiny and shrunken, his skinny little arms lost in a sea of shirt sleeves.

To Ronnie, what stood before him was the boogie man. He screamed.

“Woah, hey, Ronnie,” Lizzy jumped up, pulling him to her, “It’s okay, it’s okay. That’s just Will.”

Ronnie gave her a look. “That wooks wike a wawyer,” he said in a limped stage whisper.

Lizzy chuckled. “That’s ‘cause he IS a lawyer.”

Ronnie squeaked and hid behind her. Lizzy shot an apologetic look at Will, and leaned over to whisper to him. “Every so often, Mr G gets.. ahm,  _ visits,  _ from Child Protective Services— just check-ins, to make sure everything’s running smoothly. But Mr G gets really stressed about them, and Ronnie has kind of… developed a.. fear... of businessmen.”

“You could have told me this  _ before,”  _ he hissed.

“Well, I didn’t think he could flipping _sense it!”_ Lizzy hissed back, NOT swearing. “Do lawyers have, like, a scent or something?”

Darcy frowned at her, and she rolled her eyes. “FINE,” she griped quietly, “I’ll handle it. Just.. play nice.”

She turned back to Ronnie, rubbing soothing little circles on his back. “Hey.. hey lil’ tyke. It’s okay! William here is my friend. And you  _ know _ I would never be friends with anyone bad.”

He peeked out from behind her legs, unconvinced. “He wooks scary though..”

“Well, he’s not. See?” She turned to Will, popping her eyes out and mouthing some very non-child friendly commands at him.

Will crouched down, and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “H-hey… buddy…,” he said, softly. Ronnie watched him intently, warily. Lizzy did too. He swallowed.  _ How in the hell was he supposed to talk to kids?  _ “You like… cars?”

Ronnie’s eyebrows shot up, and he ventured a little out from behind Lizzy. “Do YOU wike cars?” He asked, very intensely.

“Um. Yes.”

“Do you have a car? Wha’ car dya have?”

“Uh, a Tesla?”

He had struck gold. Ronnie’s eyes lit up. “OH MY G-O-S-H THA’ IS SO COOOOL!! CAN I SEE IT?? IT IS FAST?!?!?”

“How ‘bout you show William YOUR cars first, sport. We ARE at your home base after all.”

“Oh yeah. Okay! Come on Ewize’s friend!! I wanna show you my Lexus, it’s gween, and big, and supersuperfastIjustgotitforChristmasCOMEON!!”

Darcy let a sideways smile take over his face as this energetic little boy bounded over to a back room (dragging Darcy along) and proudly showed off his model car collection. He normally didn’t like kids, but he had to admit— the excitement was infectious. 

He played with Ronnie for a good half hour (Lizzy taking shifts at the counter and periodically checking in on ‘her boys’ with a heartwarming smile). Ronnie, thankfully, did most of the talking. Darcy just made the appropriate ‘vrrrrrrRRROOOOOM’ sounds and drove the cars off a cliff (the edge of the table) when Ronnie gave the go sign. The kid had a thing for explosions. 

Unfortunately though, Darcy couldn’t put off his responsibilities forever. He had to meet Bing and assess the new property. So he made his excuses to a disappointed Ronnie and tried to leave. He said ‘tried’ because Ronnie stuck to his leg like a sea urchin, begging him to play “JUST A WITTLE WONGER!!”

“C’mon Ronnie,” Lizzy said, gently prying the kid off of Darcy’s pant leg, “Will has to go now. Say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he sulked. 

Lizzy smiled at Darcy, sweet and apologetic, and— for some odd reason— Darcy couldn’t look away. He stared at her, a goofy grin on his face. He must have been drunk off of happiness and toddler excitement; usually he had better control of himself than this.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

_ Um. _

_ What. _

Lizzy looked about as awkward and startled as he felt. She paled a little, and her smile froze on her face. “Uh, Ronnie, sweetie,” she said, her voice only a tad stilted, “Will and I just met.”

“But is ‘e your boyfriend?” The boy asked, looking up quizzically at the two adults, “You nevah bwing boys when you have friends ower. So is ‘e?”

“Uhhhhh…”

“No, I’m not,” Darcy filled in, feeling the crippling weight of awkwardness settle in. Yikes, he couldn’t even meet her eyes.

“Oh,” Ronnie said, then shrugged. “Okay!”

“O _ kay,”  _ Lizzy chuckled (forcedly). “So… see ya around, Will!”

“Yeah, uh, see ya.”

With that, Will Darcy made a hasty exit, Ronnie went back to the play room, and Lizzy turned away to the counter. Only one of them wasn’t blushing so hard they could feel the heat rise off of their cheeks and neck as they wondered why that comment had caused such a violent reaction in them. 

And the other one went back to play with his cars, and hoped that Elize would bring around her not-boyfriend again sometime. He made good explosion noises. 


	10. Letting the “Project”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Bingley banter. Introducing their new project, as well as Rosa Jane. Looong chapter. Last one before pointless fluff (See notes)!  
> Also wish me luck on my last final. FINALLY DONE 👏

Darcy, after being pleasurably distracted by his excursion at the QuickaSnack, arrived at his informal meeting with Charles six minutes behind schedule. It was  _ catastrophic. _

Charles was sprawled out on TOP of his desk, lounging like a lizard on stacks of insurance claims, peering at a gimmicky woven bracelet with the  _ stupidest _ smile on his face. Darcy stopped his hurried gait and promptly dropped his briefcase. 

“What the hell?”

“DARCY!” His friend yelped before falling off the desk. He scrambled to his feet with an only slightly embarrassed expression. “I- I thought you weren’t coming.”

His partner cocked an eyebrow. “I was five minutes late.”

“But YOU’RE never late! For.. anything! And it was six, by the way.”

“I apologize. Was there anything in particular you thought we should discuss, Mr Bingley?”

Charles smiled and waved him off. “Jeez, stop with the formalities! C’mere.” He brought his taciturn friend into a one-armed hug. “It’s been too long, man.”

Darcy shook his head bemusedly. “You just saw me last week.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you were delirious and I didn’t get to stick around after you woke up.”

He winced. “Sorry about that, by the way. You know me and planes.”

Charles laughed jovially. “Do I ever! Remember spring break, flying down to Sicily? I thought we were gonna have to pump your stomach or something!”

This coaxed a smile from Darcy. He started to relax, but he still wanted to get a little work done too. “So,” he said, clapping his hands together, “What project did you have in mind? Remember, this is your first project for Austen, better make it worthwhile.”

Bingley’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Right! I wanted to take you there, actually!”

“Why? Scope out the property?”

“Yes, exactly!” He had the grace to look a tad flustered now. “And to.. m-meet the help.”

“Help?” Darcy asked, “I thought this would be a solo project?”

“It is! But… well, I needed someone.. specialized in this field. Um. Yeah. Anyway, just wait ‘til you meet her, you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed at the female pronoun. Bingley tended to lose his head when it came to dealing with the ‘fairer sex’. And now he was running a business— he couldn’t afford to have his opinions swayed. But, it wasn’t Darcy’s job to judge. It was to advise. He sighed, heavily.

“OK, let’s meet this mystery helper.”

“Excellent! Yes! You won’t regret this!”

From Bingley’s over enthusiastic smile however, Darcy was beginning to believe he would. 

Nevertheless however, he dutifully followed his old friend out of the temporary Austen headquarters and down a few streets. Bingley insisted on walking, saying it was only a few blocks and less carbon-emissions and couldn’t Darcy stand to lose a little weight, _ I mean know you’re in great shape but you’ll never get abs sitting around reading memos all day and guzzling espressos until you pass out at your desk at 3am. _ Darcy held up one finger to silence him— not his pointer, for anyone wondering. But Bingley just laughed and said they were  _ almost there anyway. _

‘Almost there’ turned out to be a large, squat building made of plaster and bricks. The outside was choked with ivy-covered murals; blocking blue lettering read ‘P - A Y P - N’, which may have once been the establishment’s name. Darcy was about to ask why they were meeting at an abandoned property when one of the doors opened and a dark haired beauty stepped out.

The woman wore a simple blue sweater over her leggings and boots, a thin crystal necklace hanging down around a thick swirl of deep brown curls: rich and dark and just bordering on black. She had a sculpted face, soft deer-like eyes, and rose petal lips that glowed with a smile as she caught sight of Bingley.

_ Ohhh boy,  _ Darcy thought, glazing over at his friend, who had donned a familiar lovestruck expression,  _ Here we go again. _

“Hi,” the woman said timidly, stepping down to meet them. She moved with an unpracticed grace, as if she was trying not to step too loudly or hurt the pavement.

“H-hi,” Bingley all but whimpered, his eyes pinned on hers while he tried not to trip over his tongue.

“Hello,” Darcy said, unwilling to endure any awkward silences, “I’m William Darcy, the lawyer for Austen.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said politely.

“Oh! Where are my manners!” Bingley said, snapping out of it, “This is Rosa Jane— ah, I’m sorry,  _ Ms. Bennít _ — she’ll be showing us around the property and giving us input.”

“You can call me Rosa Jane,” she offered kindly. Bingley smiled appreciatively.

Darcy frowned in thought. “Bennít, you said? Any relation to, uh, Elize Bennít?”

Rosa Jane looked surprised. “Uhm, yes, my sister. Do you know her?”

“Yeah Darcy, _ do you?”  _ Bingley asked with arched eyebrows.

“A- A little. She gave my sister a tour this morning.”  _ And her eyes and quick wit are quite possibly the only reasons I like this god-forsaken bumpkin town.  _ But he didn’t say that. What he did say was: “Ms Bennít, would you mind relaying to me exactly what kind of project you had in mind for the property? My  _ partner here _ has been uncommonly vague.”

She clasped her hands. Business mode. “The project would be to renovate Playpen, the building, that is, into a facility better suited for the community’s needs. The property under contract includes about 12 acres of land, 3 of which are currently unused and would be fashioned into a park for the children.”

“Children?”

Just then, two rambunctious toddlers burst out of the doors, swinging backpacks at each other while a disgruntled mother tried to herd them out the door. “Now you listen here— NO, JULIAN, STOP SWINGING THAT— what did we say about making a mess for Mommy, hm? What did we say, David? David! BOYS LOOK WHAT YOU DID YOU ALMOST KNOCKED OVER YOUR POOR TEACHER!!”

Indeed, the rowdy boys had almost barreled into Rosa Jane, but at their mother’s reprimand, they stopped and looked as wide eyed and horrified as adults did in car crashes. “Sorry, Miss Rosa,” they said in overlapping apologies.

“It’s quite alright,” Rosa Jane said kindly, “Just please watch where you’re going next time, okay? And David-- here let me zip that up for you. Wouldn’t want you to lose that drawing you worked so hard on.”

“Thanks, Miss Rosa,” the little boy said smilingly, looking up at her with adoration in his eyes. She smiled back down at him. “See you tomorrow— I had fun today.”

The two boys repeated the farewell back to her, then continued on their way, the overworked mother shooting Rosa Jane a grateful look on her way by. 

Darcy stood, silently, watching the spectacle. Honestly, what was Charles  _ thinking?  _ A  _ daycare teacher, _ working on a real estate project? He really was taken in by a pretty face. Charles however, did not notice how his friend was oozing disapproval, but was watching the lovely teacher with a bashful kind of grin. 

“So sorry about that,” she said, blushing slightly before regaining control, “But that actually goes to show what a good idea this project is. Building a park like the one in the Netherfield plans— what we’re thinking of calling it, after the Playpen’s founder— would be immensely good for kids like that to run around in and learn about things the hands-on way.”

“Burn off the extra energy?” Bingley suggested helpfully.

“Exactly, Charles!” She beamed, “And it would allow the unused land to be finally, well, put into use! It would be wonderful for everyone involved!” At this, her heart-melting smile turned shy again. “At least, I think so.” 

“And I agree!” Bingley exclaimed. “And, I don’t think I told you before, but thank you for the bracelet. I really like it.” He grinned bashfully, and looked to be blushing like an anime protagonist.

Rosa Jane smiled sweetly at him, then seemed to remember that Darcy was still there. “Oh, uh, Charles came in earlier to review the property, and he caught us in the middle of craft time. He was fine with waiting a bit and the kids loved him.”

Charles held up his wrist for Darcy, displaying a gimmicky woven friendship-bracelet, like the kind made at a third grade summer camp. Little wobble designs of pink flowers were interspersed with green and blue triangles. Darcy was unimpressed, to say the least. 

Rosa Jane seemed to pick up on this. She smiled again (she smiled too much) and cleared her throat. “Let’s get started on the tour then shall we?”

Bingley was obviously about to spring forward and probably offer her his arm or something, but after one look at Darcy’s face, he hesitated. Bingley smiled at Rosa Jane. “Um, will you excuse us for one moment?”

She nodded. “Of course. Please come inside when you’re ready.”

As soon as she was in the doors, Darcy pulled his friend close. “Are you joking?” he hissed, “Pro bono for your first gig? I thought you were going to do an apartment complex, or a build up a framework storefront! This is unprofessional, even for you!”

At this, Bingley seemed to get  _ legitimately _ angry. “WHAT?! Did you even  _ hear  _ what she was saying? This is a gold mine! Just because a project helps people doesn’t make it a bad idea!”

“A _ park _ . For your legacy in this company, you want to build a _ park.  _ This is… utterly insignificant. We’re wasting our time here. _ ” _

Bingley pinched the bridge of his nose. He breathed out slowly, and Darcy thought he could hear him counting to ten. Finally, when he opened his eyes, gone was the bouncy boy-wonder and in its place was a businessman, ready to crack down.

“Austen is looking at purchasing not only this property, but several apartment buildings surrounding it. The last census showed an influx of young parenthood in California, with 22.5% of the population being under 18 years of age, and moving rates to this region of Cali were up 36% last year. There are lots of young parents here, and they need a good environment for young children. This town is equidistant from at least 4 major cities; all within an hour’s drive. If they drop off their kids here, chances are they’ll spend around town-- good for the local economy, which means we can drive our prices up. The Netherfield project is NOT JUST ‘PRO BONO’, it has serious ramifications that benefit not only Austen, but also the community, the local businesses, and the children themselves! Studies have shown that when good schools and good parks are in an area, new stores spring up, and the population increases soon after! Haerdford is far from a pesky little nothing, you will NOT talk to me as if I am below you, and this project is FAR FROM INSIGNIFICANT!!”

Silence.

Charles straightened his collar passive aggressively. His chest was still heaving. Darcy made a little ‘wow’ motion with his mouth and let his eyebrows briefly jump to his hairline. They regarded each other, warily.

“I’m… sorry, Charles. I wasn’t thinking it through like that,” Darcy said, only somewhat awkwardly.

“‘S’alright,” Bingley sniffed, his shoulders slowly falling back down. “I’ve just been wound up this week. Too many people… questioning.. my credentials.”

“What! You’ve studied real estate for years!”

“I know!” Bingley shot back, angry (but not at him), “Yet because I’m fresh faced and friendly, people assume I’m an idiot! I’m sick of it!” 

A pause. “I.. am truly sorry to have made things worse for you. I wasn’t looking at the bigger picture.”

“Yeah, well…”

Another brief silence.

“Do you remember the last time I yelled like that?”

“Shit, must have been… second year? Thanksgiving brunch-- you had been behind in classes and your parents just got the divorce?”

“Oh gosh, yeah,” Bingley laughed, “I was so stressed.”

“Your face was red for like an hour.”

“That poor waiter!”

“She shouldn’t have spilled your margarita. You had worn your nice pants that day, too. What a shame.”

_ “Still. _ I shouldn't have broken that window.”

“And the lobster tank?”

“Aw jeez, _ the lobster tank.” _

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was the amicable kind, the one shared by old friends relieving treasured memories. Darcy smiled. He hadn’t realized he missed having friends like Charles.

“Hey, you want to head over for the tour? I think Ms. Bennít’s still waiting for us.”

“Sure. Lead the way, Mr. Big-Shot-Lawyer.”

“Oh no, after you, Mr. Ego-Inflated-Head-of-the-Branch.”

“Jerk.”

“Wuss.”

“Devil’s Advocate.”

“Mama’s boy.”

They grinned at each other. Then, shaking hands as if they WERE the serious businessmen their job titles implied, they headed inside, ready to scope out their new project.  _ Netherfield.  _ Why not. At last, Bingley was let to do what he saw fit. That might have been the moment things began to shift a little in Haertford. The moment Netherfield park was let at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve been looking at some fun prompt ideas, and I figured I’d just throw them all together (pun intended)! I want to know, before I do tho, if y’all have any specific requests of fav tropes or fluff you think I should include.
> 
> *so far, my ideas are: matching clothes (by accident), locked in together, fake dating, “plutonic” sleepover, playing truth or dare, playing TWISTER, dumbasses in love, mutual pining and oblivious set-ups*


	11. The Difficulty of Social Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy struggles with social situations. Lizzy helps. Cute fluff, longish chapter— will post again soon :)  
> Also thank you to all those who commented their suggestions for future clichés, I will try my best to include as many (hopefully all cuz they sound really fun) as I can. Love yall, and thanks for reading! 🌺

William Darcy was not proud of himself at the moment. What he was doing was borderline pathetic, and he knew it. Plus, he had spent FAR too much money on convenience store food he was never actually going to eat. He had gone to the QuickaSnack every day, sometimes multiple times. Usually he just peeked in, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. It would have been less pathetic had she actually been there, any of those times.

_ God.  _ He was acting just as bad as Bingley. So what if he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked, the way she laughed, the way her hair curled around her ears in soft brown tangles he just wanted to run his hands through… NO! He was a grown man— he had more important things to do than… than this!

Darcy sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked at his phone. Gina, for the past few days, had been hanging around Merriton University, dropping in at lectures and getting familiar with the schedule. Usually she was done around this time, but she had yet to call.

Darcy himself had just finished drawing up the contract for Netherfield, and was done for the day. He had some time to kill, so he had planned to pick Gina up and go out for ice cream (or something equally unhealthy). Since she had yet to call, he decided,  _ why not, _ let’s go find her then.

He pulled up to Merriton, and parked in the visitor’s section. He sat in the driver’s seat for a while, just breathing. And thinking. LOTS of thinking.  _ It’s not like it was a big deal— just walk in there! So what if you don’t know anyone? Why would it matter? Why are your palms sweating and your throat closing up and your head hurting oh god— _

__ Groaning, Darcy pulled himself together. 

He got out of the car and walked into Merriton. As expected he didn’t know anyone in the halls. It felt like all the students were staring at him, which they may have well been. Darcy still hadn’t adjusted to the whole ‘dressing casually’ thing, and still opted for a suit and tie whenever possible. 

He looked into a few classrooms, his eyes scanning the crowd for Gina’s straight blonde hair and red T-shirt. Instead, Darcy caught sight of brown, curly hair, a Hawaiian shirt, and bright laughing eyes.  _ It was her. _

Darcy stopped in the middle of the hallway, observing how easily Elize was chatting with the other students. Unlike him, she seemed perfectly at ease in the crowd. Lizzy laughed, and touched some guy’s arm as he told her a joke.

Darcy all but ran out of the hall.

_ What was he doing? She hadn’t felt a connection, obviously. Heck, maybe she had a boyfriend! Darcy didn’t know! She hadn’t seen him in days— HE was the one being weird here. Of course she would have other people to talk to… Why did he feel like crap? He barely knew her! _

Without remembering how he had gotten there, Darcy found himself in a large, cavernous library. Bookshelves abounded, and there was a circular check-in desk at the center, but other than that it was abandoned. 

Darcy would have been tempted to pick out a novel or two, but didn’t feel like going up to the librarian afterward. Instead, he opted to sit down at one of the desks, the ones with computers. 

He stared at the black screen for a few seconds, his mind wandering inevitably back to Lizzy. It struck him that, besides her name and where she worked, he didn’t know anything about her!

An idea came to him, and he bit his lip, thinking. Then, after checking surreptitiously over his shoulder, Darcy clicked onto Google, feeling half-embarrassed and half-unquenchably-curious.

He typed in ‘Elize Benítt.’ Nothing came up. He tried again. ‘Elize Valentina Benítt.’ Zero Results. He was typing in ‘Elize Valentina Benítt at Merriton Univerity’ when a voice behind him made him almost jump out of his chair.

“It’s actually spelled B-E-N-N-I-T, with an accent over the ‘i’— just FWI.”

Darcy whipped around and found himself looking up into the startlingly gorgeous grey-green eyes of Elize Valentina Bennít. She raised an eyebrow, an amused smile dancing across her lips. Darcy felt his cheeks heating up. 

“I- uh- Hi,” he stammered, surely as red as a sunbaked crab.

“Hi,” Lizzy laughed, throwing down her book bag and plopping down next to him. She was wearing a red and white Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned over a crisp white tank top. Her jeans were high rise and cuffed; they clung to every curve of her form. Her hair was messy, her eyes laughing. 

After a while Darcy realized he had been staring. He coughed, and looked away. She popped her lips to draw his attention back to her.

“So, um, do you..  _ often _ stalk your friends on the internet?” Lizzy asked, grinning.

Darcy let out a chuckle that was anything but natural. “No!” He said in a falsetto, before clearing his throat and dropping back down an octave. “No I don’t.”

“Soooooo,” she drawled, “why were you stalking _me?”_

“I, uh, well,” he spluttered, definitely cementing himself as a fool in her mind, “I don’t really.. know anything about you.” 

Instead of laughing as he expected her to, Lizzy surprised him by sitting back in a contemplative way. She smiled. “Well, whaddya wanna know?”

Darcy shrugged helplessly.

“Seriously. I KNOW you’re better at conversations than this.”

“I’m really not.”

She blew a raspberry at him, then tilted her head back, thinking.

“How ‘bout I talk about family stuff, then move onto interests?” Lizzy said, then assumed a very poor Darcy impression.  _ “Or do you require a comprehensive packet, sir?” _

“No no,” he laughed, “that sounds like a good plan.”

A pause.

“So, uh, tell me about your family?” Darcy asked. Lizzy happily obliged.

“Well, my dad was born in Israel, but grew up in Turkey most of his life. When he turned 20, he did a missionary trip to rural Mexico, where he met my mom. He was a bookish introvert who just wanted to sip spiked tea and read novels on philosophy, while my mom was a party animal fresh off her teenage years with big plans. And well, opposites attracted. They got married, took my mom’s name ‘cause my dad had kinda been disowned by his family when he decided to move permanently, and had us kids. Five girls: I’m the second oldest.”

Darcy interrupted her there. “Oh! I’ve actually met your sister.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“Rosa Jane.”

“Ohhh,” Lizzy said. “Yeah, she mentioned meeting some uptight big city lawyer with the new project, but I didn’t know it was you!”

Darcy frowned slightly. “She called me uptight?”

Lizzy laughed. “No, she said ‘seemed devoted to his task’, which is Rosa-speak for ‘didn’t smile once and refused to sit down during the hour-long meeting’.”

Darcy ducked his head. “I  _ did _ smile. I’m NOT  _ uptight.” _

She giggled and eyed him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Darcy found he rather liked the way his face heated up when she teased him, as long as her lips still quirked in that ever-so adorable way. He blinked and she was talking again. He had GOT to stop getting distracted.

“Well _I_ know that. Now. But you’re kinda bad at first impressions, you gotta admit.”

“I guess so,” he said, smiling ruefully. Then he cleared his throat, and, unwilling for the conversation to die, asked, “So, is Rosa Jane the oldest sister?”

“Yep,” Lizzy said, “Then comes me, then Marie, then the twins, Katyln and Lysa.”

“Is there much of an age gap between you?”

“Not much. I’m about to start senior year of college, and the twins are going into their senior year of  _ high school.” _

“Ahh.” He didn’t really know what else to say.

Then Darcy was saved from having to do any more quick-thinking conversation tactics by his little sister bursting into the room. “OH! Hey William! What are you doing here?”

He turned to her in his seat and smiled. “Just picking you up, G.”

She came to a stop in front of his chair and cocked her head. “What for?”

“Ice cream, obviously.”

“Yesss! That sounds awesome!” Gina seemed to notice Lizzy, and then shot her brother a look that could only be described as ‘conniving’. “Say, Lizzy, you wanna come with us? I’m sure we would  _ both _ love to have you!”

Darcy flushed.  _ Why did Gina have to meddle? Just because he had— in a fit of ill-fated honesty— revealed he thought Elize was pretty did NOT mean he was interested in her! ...Did it? Wait! No! Not the issue right now! The issue was his little sister butting in to HIS business! He was fine on his own! GAH!  _ …but.. then again, he reasoned, if she said yes… then maybe the meddling wasn’t so bad. He turned to Lizzy, hope in his half-smiling expression.

To his disappointment, Elize’s own smile was sideways and apologetic. “Sorry Darcys, but I have to get back to the store.”

She must have caught the look of suppressed dejection in Darcy’s eyes because she put her hand on his shoulder again. “Hey— I’ll see you around though! My QuickaSnack shifts are usually the early morning weekdays (like seven to ten) or early-ish afternoon (like four or so). Drop by if you want to hear more about… whatever it was we were talking about. I kinda forgot.”  She laughed and got up. “But I’ll see ya ‘round, yeh Will?”

“Yeah,” he grinned softly, lifting his hand in an almost wave, “See ya.”

_ His skin still tingled where her hand had touched. _

And the warm, familiar smile Lizzy gave him over her shoulder as she exited the library almost made the oncoming barrage of Gina’s nosey questions about his love life bearable. Almost.


	12. Pepsi and Plutonic Crushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy and Darcy in the QuickaSnack. Lizzy’s POV. Cute fluff and banter, longish chapter. Also, I maybe made a Spotify playlist for the QuickaSnack Hits. Never listen to it, it is complete trash. Enjoy the chapter :) 🌸

Lizzy Bennít was feeling very pleased with herself today, and life in general, really. As of yesterday, school was finally out for the summer (FREEDOOOOOM!) and on top of that, she had a new regular at the QuickaSnack, who just made her shifts a little more bearable. 

“Where on _earth_ is this song from? It sounds like autotuned dog crap.”

Lizzy didn’t even have to look up to see the curled lip and exasperated expression. She grinned. “Alvin and the Chipmunks 2: the Squeakqual.”

A pause, as if the information was being digested just as well as expired milk. “But... wasn’t it just playing a reggae version of Margaritaville?”

“Yyyyyup.”

“And… what song’s up next?”

Lizzy’s grin widened. “19th century Italian opera.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yes I agree, this playlist is divine.”

He snorted, and Lizzy happily turned up the volume, to which he responded by turning away with his hands over his ears. Lizzy smiled to herself. Will Darcy was a fun guy to be around.

At first, she had almost classified Will as.. arrogant and aloof— almost unfeeling. But, as he came by the QuickaSnack more and more, and they spent more and more time together— browsing and bickering and creating stupid inside jokes about gummy bears— Lizzy began to see him a little differently. He was… sweet, sort of. Will was.. persnickety, and even a bit overly judgemental at times, but he was also incredibly nice and awkward beyond belief— which… was kinda cute, if Lizzy was being totally honest with herself. He also got flustered easily, which (on top of being hella adorable) was very fun to provoke. Lizzy thoroughly enjoyed teasing him, but liked it even more when he teased back. 

“Is this the ENTIRE soda selection?”

Lizzy rolled her eyes amusedly. _“No,_ we have a secret compartment in the freezer aisle. Igor, hit it!” 

She looked up, and matched Will’s glare with a grin. “What?”

He clicked his tongue and sighed. “It’s just….,” he trailed off, “Nevermind.”

“Ah, c’mon Will,” Lizzy teased, “You your big boy words!”

He glowered at her. She smiled back winningly. Will sighed again. “It’s just… you don’t have Pepsi.”

She pointed to his left. “We have Coke.”

He gave her a _look._ “That’s not Pepsi.”

“Oh lord, please tell me you’re not one of _those_ people.”

“What people?” Will asked, his voice wary, readying himself to be offended.

“One of those people who CARES about Pepsi vs Coke.”

“They’re two different things!”

“Uh, HELLO?” Lizzy laughed, “They taste _the EXACT same!”_

Will gawked at her, mightily offended. “They do NOT!”

“Um, yeah, they do!”

“NO they don’t!”

“They do!”

Will grinned at her. “Prove it.”

She rolled her eyes again, but she was fighting a smile. “Will. Just take the damn soda.”

He grumbled a bit, but Will did end up taking the damn soda. As he was bending over to grab the bottle, Lizzy had an opportunity to study him without being observed.

Yep. He was hot. No doubt about that.

Will’s hair was thick and wavy, regally groomed with a few stray curls of ebony escaping to his forehead. His jawline was stronger than most, but somehow looked surprisingly soft, as if the underside was just waiting to be kissed tenderly. Will also had broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a tall, thickish frame that Lizzy was willing to _bet_ was body-builder level underneath all those fancy suits and ties. And his EYES… dark pools of earth and soil, strata leading down to warm, complex abyss that resembled a soul. It was enough to make any girl swoon.

Which is why it was so weird to see _that_ and have to only think ‘friend.’

 _Sure,_ Lizzy liked him. Will was just her type: cute, clever, good sense of humor, well-read… Lizzy was, admittedly, very picky for someone who had no _physical_ requirements for who she dated. Her last girlfriend (Mariah King, in sophomore year) had called it “selectively open-minded,” which Lizzy had agreed with. But yeah, Will Darcy fit the bill just right.

It really was a shame he wasn’t interested.

I mean, he never said it _outright,_ but she could TELL, ya know? Lizzy just.. just got the feeling Will was ONLY looking for friendship where she was concerned. Whenever Lizzy would make an even slightly flirty comment, it would either go way over his head, he would brush it off as a joke and pointedly ignore it, or he would get all red and twitchy and change the subject.

Sure, he looked at her a lot (like, a LOT, a lot), but Lizzy was pretty convinced that was just his social awkwardness. Plus, he hadn’t asked her out yet. Just kinda… hung around, laughing and talking and making slightly snobbish comments about Pepsi’s _obvious superiority_ to Coke. That didn’t exactly scream ‘romantic.’ 

And she was cool with that! She didn’t have to date anyone (though her mother would disagree)— she was fine with just being friends! Granted, it was sometimes hard not to wish it was more, but if he wasn’t interested, Lizzy wouldn’t pursue. They had a good thing going— she didn’t want to ruin their budding friendship.

“I can’t believe you didn’t have it,” Will grumbled as Lizzy rang up his not-Pepsi, “I mean, this is a CONVENIENCE store! Shouldn’t you have _all kinds_ of soda?!”

She laughed. “Look man, I dunno what to tell you.”

“Tell me you have Pepsi,” Will begged. His eyes were darkly serious, but the sides of his mouth were twitching upwards suspiciously. “Or _at least_ back ordering some.”

“I’ll look into it,” Lizzy winked.

He grunted in appreciation and took his ‘second-rate’ soda. Instead of leaving however, Will lingered at the counter, only somewhat awkwardly. 

Lizzy smiled at him sideways. “So.. you prefer— oh, sorry— _STRONGLY prefer_ Pepsi to Coke, then?”

Will took a swig and grimaced. “Yup.”

“Huh. That’s like, only the fourth thing you’ve told me about yourself.”

“Oh yeah? What are the other three?” Will asked with some interest.

“You’re a real estate lawyer, you’ve never seen Aladdin, and you drive a Tesla. That’s… literally all I know about you.”

“Hey, it’s not like I know much about you either!” Will protested mildly.

“Dude, I like, told you my entire family history the other day! And all I know about you is your damn Pepsi obsession!”

Will grinned in a way Lizzy was determined NOT to classify as sexy. “Maybe I like to maintain an air of mystery.”

“Well, I’ll get you to drop the act sooner or later,” Lizzy promised jokingly.

She _really_ wasn’t prepared for the warm look of sincerity that entered Will’s dark eyes. “I’d.. I look forward to that,” he said, softly, smilingly.

Lizzy swallowed and decided, _well, fuck it._ “Hey, uh, maybe I can get you to drop the man-of-mystery act at the banquet tonight?”

He smiled. “Oh yeah, I can’t wait for that! Gina and I have been looking forward to it all week!”

“No no, I mean.. if Gina’s cool with it… maybe uh, you and I could go.. together?”

Will stopped, and looked at her for a moment, stone faced. Lizzy panicked internally as the seconds ticked by. His eyes were boring into her— dark and sultry and completely unreadable.. except for a stunned glazed look, and a slight widening around the eyebrows. 

“It would be a totally casual thing!” Lizzy blurted, unable to take the silence any longer. “Just go together as friends! We’d hang out at the party and I could introduce you to people.. you’d just probably swing by casa de Bennít beforehand so we can walk over together!”

A bead of sweat trickled down her neck. _Oh god. Oh fuck. Had she just ruined it?_

“Oh… Kay..,” Will said, slowly, not blinking for an interminable amount of time.

“Cool.” She smiled, a bit uncomfortable. Then she shook off the feeling. _They were just friends. Friends go to parties together all the time! So what’s the big deal? NOTHING THAT’S WHAT. Hhhhhhhhh…._

Lizzy huffed all the air out of her lungs. Murmuring half to herself, she said, “Shit, I have no clue _what_ I am gonna wear.”

Finally, Will blinked. His brow crinkled, confused. “Um. A dress..?”

“Uyyyy, I’ll probably have to,” Lizzy groaned, sitting back in the comfy behind-the-counter chair. “But then I’ll have to wear HEELS because my MOM will have a FIT if I don’t. UGH.”

Will raised his eyebrows at her in a teasing sort of smile. “Then just wear dress pants or something,” he suggested, almost innocently.

Lizzy gasped and clutched her hands to her chest. “PANTS!? At a BANQUET?! _BLASPHEMY!”_ She dropped the act and ran a hand though her curls, sighing. “Nnneurghh, there are no good options…”

“Well, I look forward to you figuring it out.”

“Me too, compadre. Me too.”

He smiled at her, and Lizzy waved as Will took his not-Pepsi and left the QuickaSnack. The door closed. The bell jangled. Lizzy sighed. Suddenly, without Will’s presence, the store felt a lot less like home.

Lizzy was quick to derail THAT train of thought. They were JUST FRIENDS. Nothing more. Even if… _NO, just friends._ With an effort, Lizzy put all thoughts of Will Darcy, possible relationships, and Pepsi out of her mind.

She cranked up the volume of the already ear-splitting Italian opera, and went back to work, not admitting to herself that she was counting down the hours until her shift ended and the banquet began— until Lizzy would (as friends) get to see him again.


	13. Tub Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! I felt bad, because its been a while since I posted, so instead of drawing out the Banquet-megachapter for longer I’m splitting that night up a bunch, so I can keep posting it periodically. Just know that I’m very sleep deprived, rewrote the start of the chapter 4 times, and eventually just put in a comfort trope of mine— fluff and awkwardness. Enjoy :P ❤️

Three hours, 24 minutes, and 52 seconds to go. God DAMN she was bored.

Lizzy had finished with her final shift some time ago, and was alternating between scrolling through her phone and wishing she had the motivation to move from the couch. She had a lot of time before the banquet started, and already had all her clothes ready for her. Groaning, Lizzy checked her texts. 

Her best friend, Charlotte Lu, had been visiting her parents over the weekend, which had mysteriously transitioned into her spending all her time at her parents’ house. Lizzy supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. She and Charlotte understood each other in ways that few people could, having best friends since toddlerhood, but ever since they started college, they had been drifting continually apart. Lizzy still loved to hang out with her, but she didn’t get to that often, anymore— despite LIVING TOGETHER. 

Charlotte  _ had _ texted that she would be at the banquet though. Hopefully they could actually make some conversation, if everything went well. Lizzy, pulling herself up from the couch and padding into the bathroom, ruminating on this as she turned on the water. She smiled. Yes, a party was just the thing to reforge friendship. She would have to check back in later, and make some plans. 

But for now, Lizzy pushed in the bath plug and set the water to warm. Then just a little farther. Satisfied with the scalding heat, Lizzy set her phone down on the counter, stripped off her (slightly grimy) clothes, and sank into the tub. She put a dollop of body wash on her hand and took her time scrubbing— she lent her head back and enjoyed the gentle thrum of the water and it flowed through her hair.

She thought about tonight.

Her mother was always pressuring her to bring boys home. Would she be okay if Lizzy brought Will just as a friend? Or would things get awkward? Shit, she hadn’t thought this through.. Her mother was naturally distrusting of quiet people; either that or she steamrolled them with flurried conversation. Lizzy grinned, imagining what Will would say when bombarded with all sorts of delightfully horrible nosy questions.

Suddenly her quiet sanctuary was interrupted by the intrusive sound of a phone ringing. Making low grumble in the back of her throat, Lizzy lifted her head out of the water and peered at the screen, trying to read it without getting up. ‘Will Darcy’. 

_ Ha,  _ she thought,  _ I summoned him.  _ She moved her feet idly through the water, considering. He could have texted, had it been something minor. Maybe he wanted to cancel! Ugh, if that was the case, Lizzy had better know right away, so she wouldn’t put so much effort into getting ready (not FOR him, just… just because).

Nodding with her mind made up, Lizzy got up, dried one hand, and answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, Lizzy,” his voice sounded on the other end, “It’s Will.”

“Yeah I know, I got caller ID. What’s up?”

As she said this, Lizzy (feeling the draft in her bathroom) sank back into the tub, making sure to keep her head above water this time. 

“Uh, nothing much.” He paused. “What’s… up with you?”

She laughed teasingly. “Why are you calling me, if you had nothing to say?”

“Oh right!” Will said, sounding a bit scattered, “It’s just that— It just occurred to me—,” he paused again. “Um, are you in traffic or something? It’s really loud over there.”

“Ah shoot! One sec,” Lizzy said. She reached forward, and with a mighty squeak of unoiled metal, turned off the water. “There. Now, what were you saying?” She asked, sitting back as the bubbles parted around her. 

“What was that?”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. Will was distractible today. “I was just turning off the bathwater. It gets kinda loud, sorry.”

Will took his time answering. “The… bath.. water? You’re.. in the… bath?”

She laughed, “Yes Will, that is usually what people use bathwater for.”

She thought she heard him lick his lips. When he spoke again, his voice had a strange, almost husky quality to it that was drowned out by his sudden breathlessness. “You’re in the bath right now,” he said as a statement.

“Yes, Will,” Lizzy smiled, rolling her eyes again, “We have established this.”

“But… but…” His mind seemed to be stuck on hard reset. Lizzy laughed at the mental image of Will with loading screens for eyes. 

“It’s not like you can see me, babe,” she said cheekily, “I’m free to do whatever I want on my end.” She splashed around a bit, for emphasis.

The only way she could tell he hadn’t hung up was his breathing, which was weirdly heavy. Still, she checked to see if he was still there.

“Will? Will, hello?”

Finally, he recovered. “Yes, uh, sorry. I’m here. I just ah…,” here there was again the sound of wetting lips, before he let out a controlled breath and began to speak very quickly. 

“I just don’t know where your parents live. I don’t have the address, nor their names to look them up. I suppose I could have texted you, but I thought this way would be better, since I could also ask for directions without seeming bothersome. I don’t really know the area very well.”

“Okay,” Lizzy said. “They live at 220 Longbourn Lane. It’s on the Eastside of Haertford, just past the strip mall but before you get to the forest. It’s just on the outskirts of town. My mom has like 50 gnomes out front— you won’t miss it.”

“220 Longbourn,” he repeated back to her, “Got it. Thank you.” Will seemed to hesitate. “Um, is there a specific time I should be there?”

“Coño, I forgot to tell you about that!” Lizzy cursed, embarrassed at her own absent mindedness. “The party starts at eight, but we probably want to be at my folks’ home half an or so early. My mom likes to host. Also, do you know Spanish?”

“Uh, not really, no.”

“Well, then you’re pr’bly gonna have a lot of what she says go over your head. She never really takes the time to remember not everyone around her speaks it.”

“All right. Thanks for the heads up. Anything else I should know.”

“Ummmm, I don’t think so. OH WAIT— eat the food.  _ All the food.  _ As much as you can, EAT. It’s the only way to get around small talk, because no one wants to interrupt you with a mouth full of homemade hamburger meat. Yeah. That’s it.”

Will chuckled, and for the first time Lizzy realized how sexy it was when he laughed like that, all low and rumbly in his throat. She suddenly became very aware that she was not wearing any clothes. The water suddenly seemed a lot warmer than it had a second ago.

“Okay,” Will was saying, “I’ll see you at.. 220 Longbourn Lane, 6:30 sharp!” He cleared his throat, and Lizzy could just imagine him blushing. “Have... fun with your.. bath, then.”

“‘Kay,” she squeaked, “Bye!”

The line went dead and Lizzy dropped her phone on the tiled floor. She sank herself into the bath, letting her mortified groan transfigure into bubbles as her face dropped below the surface. The warm water, pleasant shampoo, and quiet lapping of the tub soothed her, but it was still some time before Lizzy felt good enough to resurface, without any thoughts of the party, Will, or possible nudity lingering in her mind.


	14. Gearing up for the Party/The Delights of the Benníts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy’s preparations for the banquet. Going over to the Bennít household with Charlotte. Lots of fun dialogue, along with some slight culinary recommendations :) Long chapter, translations at the end. Will post again soon. Enjoy! 🌼

Lizzy opened the oven door and breathed in a long, slow breath of brownie-scented air. Nothing quite like it.

Elize had always loved cooking. She had a talent for it. Neither her father nor her mother could cook, but her grandfather on her mother’s side was a locally renowned chef. Since he was still living in Mexico though, they could only video chat. But that was fine with Lizzy, as he still passed along all sorts of advice and recipes, to which she added her own special twists. 

He had been the one to recommend she bring some Hispanic flair to the banquet; Haertford was a very culturally diverse town, and at events like these families of different backgrounds were constantly trying to outdo each other with their own culture. It made a nice kind of melting pot of a place. Usually Lizzy stayed out of it, opting to just bring whatever food she thought would suit the event best— but this time, even if she wouldn’t admit it, she did have someone to show off for. 

So, for the last hour and a half, Elize had been hard at work, FaceTiming her grandfather and preparing Salmon Ceviche. Instead of cooking it with heat, this particular dish was made edible by soaking it in lime juice, where the acid would denature the proteins enough for human consumption (yes, she had looked up a TedTalk). Lizzy, once her grandfather deemed her fit to cook on her own, turned off her phone and lost herself in the kitchen.

She hummed along to a song called ‘Espacio Sideral’, moving her feet along to the strumming guitar and familiar lyrics. Lizzy diced the fish, and began working on the avocado. She enjoyed the feeling of control she had, the feeling of creation. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the lovely smell of lime and parsley, which she sprinkled over the small tortillas along with some red onion. 

After she was finished with the main dish, Lizzy whipped up some chocolate brownies, just in case anyone was allergic to seafood. You never knew! 

While the brownies were cooking, Lizzy finally went to the mirror, and changed into her banquet outfit. She  _ knew  _ her mom would SKIN HER ALIVE if she wore pants to an event like this, so Lizzy chose a smoky red dress, the kind that looked more like a skirt with a matching blouse than a real dress. It was sleeveless, but rose up and around her neck in a black collar that matched the thin ribbon around her waist. It came just above her knees— good. Not too high, then, nor too modest. 

It was a dark, sultry kind of red that made her eyes seem pale and ghostish in the glare. To accentuate this effect, Lizzy applies smoky black eye makeup and a flash of lipstick. Her curls were pinned up in a bun, but Lizzy mussed it a bit, until a few thin waves fell around her face and shoulders. 

She grinned in the mirror.  _ Oh yeah,  _ she thought,  _ definitely rockstar-ish.  _

Lizzy, glancing at her phone, saw the time, bagged up the food in Tupperware, pulled on her black boots with the heels, and headed for the door. On her way out, she bumped into Charlotte Lu, who was also ready for a wild night. 

“Lizzy!” She exclaimed, surprised. “What.. are you doing here?”

Elize laughed. “I live here, ding dong!”

Charlotte smiled, looking slightly embarrassed. “Oh, right. Duh.”

They grinned at each other for a moment, before Lizzy broached the gap and pulled her old friend into a hug. “I missed you this week,” she said.

Charlotte sighed. “I missed you too, Liz. I hate that we keep.. keep not being able to hang out.”

“Well, at least we have tonight!”

“Yes, we have tonight.”

Lizzy took a second and regarded her old friend. She was wearing a tight green dress, with a box cut and glimmering white undertones. “Wow, Char,” she said, “You look great.”

“Thanks Liz. So do you.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow. “You finally meet someone to dress up for? Who’s the lucky gal?”

Lizzy laughed heartily, and they began to head down the hallways together, still talking. “Actually, it’s a guy this time.”

Charlotte's eyebrows shot up comically. “Really? I thought you had sworn off guys after watching (what was it?) the new Men in Black? With Chris Hemsworth?”

“Mmmm,” Lizzy hummed, momentarily distracted by her actor crush, “Yes he did set the bar pretty high, didn’t he.”

“I’ll say,” Charlotte remarked dryly. “You raved about that movie for like, a full week.”

“It was a good movie!”

“We’re getting off topic. So— who’s the guy?”

Lizzy blushed. “Well, uh, he’s a friend.”

“For  _ now.” _

She laughed again. “Yeah, but I dunno if he’s interested. He’s the big city type, just here for a job. Really smart, kinda sweet, but awkward as hell— he comes off as a bit of the dark and mysterious, ya know?”

Charlotte flapped a hand in front of her. “Bah! You know that’s not my type— I prefer the honest ones.”

“Yes,  _ accountants, _ I know.”

They both giggled. It had become an almost running joke that whatever guy Charlotte dated ended up either being an accountant or wanting to be one. Maybe she had a thing for it.

“But ANYway,” Charlotte continued, “What does he look like? I need to know what hunk has finally lured you away from the (obviously superior) fairer sex.”

Laughing, Elize replied, “Well, he’s tall— very tall. And.. has dark hair, with curls. Always wears suits. Strong jawline but soft features, dark brown eyes… he’s, um, white…”

“Uh oh,” she chuckled, “Your mom’s not gonna like  _ that.” _

“Well, he’s rich, soooo…”

“Ah,” Charlotte said, with great understanding, “Then she won’t have a problem with it.”

Lizzy smiled, but her tone waxed a serious mein. “I hope not. I really like him.”

“But… you’re just friends.”

“Yup.”

“And… you’re not gonna make any moves on him?”

“Not unless he gives me a sign.”

“And just how long will you wait, Miss Bennít?”

“As long as I can stand it, Miss Lu.”

Charlotte grinned. “He must be  _ really _ yummy then.”

They both laughed at her lecherous expression, and soon moved onto other topics. They took a cab to the edge of Haertford, and before long, they were standing on a porch that was being outflanked stupendously by an army of garden gnomes.

“Is it just me,” Charlotte whispered after they had rung the doorbell, “Or are there more than last time?”

Lizzy shuddered. “No, it’s not just you. Shit. I think they’re multiplying.”

“Where does your mom even  _ find _ these?”

“I have no idea. I think she might have birthed them.”

“Either that, or garage sales.”

“Mm.”

Soon enough, the door opened, and Mr Bennít’s face stuck out. He was a thin man, with a thin face and thin arms that seemed a little longer than the norm, though that may just have been his slouch. He was balding, but what little hair he had was thick and curly and cumulus-cloud gray tufting around his ears. Remnants of this morning’s aftershave were pushed aside by his eager smile, as he looked upon his favorite child.

“Ahh, Lizzy, thank God. Your mother’s worked herself into a tizzy, Lizzy.”

She smiled. “Still very busy, is she?”

“Yes, it’s making me dizzy, and my stomach’s upset from drinks that are fizzy.

“That last one was a bit of stretch, Dad.”

He smiled at her, unfettered. “I know, I know. I’m out of practice. But come in! I see you’ve brought Charlotte with you.”

“Nice to see you, Mr Bennít,” Charlotte said politely, stepping through the door. 

“Where should I put the food, Dad?”

Mr Bennít oohed appreciatively and tried to peek into the Tupperware. “Mmm, are those brownies I smell?”

Lizzy put a protective hand over the tub. “You can have them at the banquet, with everyone else.” She grinned.

“Oh, my child, how you wound me!” Mr Bennít smiled, and nodded behind him. “Your mother’s in the kitchen— last touches on her polvorones, I believe.”

“Oh lord, she’s not baking them  _ again?!” _

“Your mother— always the optimist.”

“I’ll say. Thanks for the heads up, dad.” Lizzy stood on her tiptoes and kissed the tall man on the cheek, before bustling off to the kitchen. She found her mother in a cloud of flour and cinnamon, smelling like a burned-down bakery and swearing like the devil.

“¡Inútil máquina! Te diga que  _ hornear—  _ ¡¿y qué hiciste?! ¡Los quemaste! ¡Sólo porque se llamen ‘galletas de polvo’ no significa que deban estar hechas de ceniza! Jodidamente inútil... ¿¡QUÉ VOY A HACER AHORA?”

Sra Bennít kicked the oven, and then hopped around on one foot as a result, spitting with the pain. Lizzy surveyed the carnage. Fifteen misshapen shortbread cookies, slathered with enough sugar and cinnamon to give ten Americans heart attacks. Most of them were a far darker shade than was usual for polvorones. 

“Mamá,” Lizzy called, trying to move surreptitiously out of her way, “Qué hiciste? I thought we agreed you would leave the baking up to me, after last time.”

“Ay, hola mija,” Sra Bennít said, finally looking up, “¡Yo sé, yo sé! Pero, necesitas comprender, Sra Lu me dijo que  _ ella _ estaba trayendo DOS postres a la fiesta esta noche, y tú  _ sabes _ que no podía dejar que esa mujer vil ganara. ¡Así que, yo hice polvorones! O…,” she glanced around, somewhat abashed, “Lo intenté, de todos modos.”

Lizzy tried to resist the urge to rub her temples. “Mamá, it shouldn’t MATTER how many desserts the Lu’s are bringing. Besides, I made some brownies. It’ll all be okay.”

Sra Bennít looked as though she was about to launch on another tirade about desserts, so Lizzy chose to distract her (perhaps unwisely) with the first thing that came to mind.

“Also, I invited a friend over. He’s new to town, and he’ll be over here any minute… Mamá? ¿Mamá, me oíste? ¿Estás bien?”

Her mother had seemed to slip into a trance. Her round, flushed face became even more flushed and her eyes became even rounder. “HE?!” She said, in utter astonishment, “you invited A BOY over?!”

Lizzy grimaced, and braced herself for the fireworks. “Yes, mamá.”

Sure enough, this was enough to bring Sra Bennít into hysterics. “¡¡AY MIJA!! I’m so HAPPY!! You NEVER bring boys home— what’s he like? Is he wealthy? CUANDO VAS A DARME NIETOS?!”

“¡MAMÁ!” Lizzy shouted over her, “He’s JUST a friend. Okay? Nothing more! Por favor, dios mios, don’t make it weird!”

“Ahhh, yo comprendo,” Sra Bennít said, winking, “You don’t want to scare him away too fast, correcto? Bueno, no te preocupes. Yo voy a actuar perfectamente casual.”

Lizzy seriously doubted THAT. But, at least her mother would  _ try.  _ That was a start anyway. She was about to say something else, but quickly forgot it as the doorbell rang.

“Ay! That must be him! ‘Scuze me, mamá,” Lizzy said, attempting to squeeze past to answer the door. Her mother yelped and caught her arm.

“¡Espera! You’re not.. you’re not…”

“Not what, mamá,” Lizzy asked with very little patience. 

Her face was pained as she gave her daughter a critical once over. “You’re not his… ah, su puta, are you?”

“MOM!” Lizzy said, aghast, “NO! Why would you—,” with an effort, she composed herself. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Bye.”

With that, she tore her arm away and raced for the door. She tried not to look down at her smoky red and black outfit— it wasn’t slutty. It wasn’t! 

With a sigh, her cheeks burning, she pulled open the door to reveal William Darcy, clad in dark red suit: the exact same color as her dress. They matched  _ perfectly. _ That was… not part of the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Polvorones are a shortbread cookie covered in sugar and cinnamon— literally translates to ‘dust cookies’. They’re really good, but a bit crumbly*
> 
> “Useless machine! I told you to cook— and what did you do?! You burned them! Just because they’re called ‘dust cookies’ doesn’t mean that they should be made of ash! Fucking useless… WHAT AM I GOING TO DO NOW?!”
> 
> “Mom, what did you do? I thought we agreed you would leave the baking to me, after last time.”
> 
> “Oh, hi sweetie. I know, I know! But, you need to understand, Mrs Lu told me that she was bringing TWO desserts to the party tonight, and you know I couldn’t let that vile woman win. So, I made polvorones! Or… I tried to, anyway.”
> 
> “Mom, it shouldn’t MATTER how many desserts the Lu’s are bringing. Besides, I made some brownies. It’ll all be okay.”
> 
> “Also, I invited a friend over. He’s new to town, and he’ll be over here any minute… Mom? ¿Mom, did you hear me? Are you okay?”
> 
> “HE?! You invited A BOY over?!”
> 
> “Yes, mom.”
> 
> “OH SWEETIE!! I’m so HAPPY!! You NEVER bring boys home— what’s he like? Is he wealthy? WHEN WILL YOU GIVE ME GRANDCHILDREN?!”
> 
> “MOM! He’s JUST a friend. Okay? Nothing more! Please, dear god, don’t make it weird!”
> 
> “Ohhh, I get it. You don’t want to scare him away too fast, right? Ok, don’t worry. I’ll act perfectly casual.”
> 
> “Oh! That must be him! Excuse me, mom.”
> 
> “WAIT! You’re not… You’re not…”
> 
> “Not what, mom?”
> 
> “You’re not his… uh, his whore, are you?”
> 
> “MOM! NO! Why would you— You know what, I don’t wanna know. Bye.”


	15. Darcy’s Pregame Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy’s own version before the party. Pointless fluff. I like it tho :) Will post again soon (btw, yes I am spitting up this a lot. Sue me ❤️)

William Darcy was really a lot more nervous than he should be. I mean, it’s just a party right? All you’ll have to do is stand at the sidelines, eat some food, talk with Elize, and bob his head to the music! Right? That wasn’t so bad? Shit, his palms were all sweaty again.

He wiped them discreetly on his dress pants. He had worn a new suit— one that his cousin had assured him was gah-run-teed to turn heads. He looked like a fucking prom date. At least the red was dark though. That way, if he spilled, it wouldn’t be  _ too  _ obvious.

At the last minute, panicking somewhat (for an unknown reason), he had asked Charles to come with him to the Benníts house. 

“Sure man,” Charles had said, easily, “Just let me grab my navy blazer. Do you think Rosa Jane will be there, by the way?”

Darcy had answered that since it was her parent’s house, at her family’s party, in her neighborhood, then there was a very good chance that she would be there. Charles had laughed and said he hoped so. He went on to explain (at length) exactly how he was going to ask Rosa Jane to dance with him twice, buy her a drink, then ask her out to dinner. 

Darcy half-listened to him for about a mile of road. Then his thoughts moved on to someone who he had been thinking about a lot, recently, as it seemed.  _ Elize.  _

_ God, what was it about her? _ Objectively, she was very similar to a lot of women he knew. Smart, outgoing, pretty… but there was something about her. It was in the details. The way she held her pinkies up when taking a sip of coffee. The way one side of her lips rose higher than the other when she smiled. The way she tapped her feet in a kind of off-beat rhythm as she walked. The way her pale green eyes gleamed with mischief when she just made a joke you’ll never in a million years understand.  _ That was what he loved about her. _

_ WAIT WHAT?  _

He slammed on the brakes a little too hard for a simple red light. Charles pitched forward, but their seatbelts kept men firmly upright. Charles made some joke from the passenger seat Darcy didn’t hear. He kept driving, though his hands might have shook on the steering wheel, just a little.

_ LOVE? Had he seriously just thought about LOVE? He barely knew her! They had even joked about barely knowing each other!  _ And yet… No. He shouldn’t feel this way. She was just another woman— a friend! Just a friend.

Except… there was something about her. Darcy could feel it, deep in his gut. Like a string inside him was being pulled taught whenever she was around. As if.. something inside him, something he didn’t understand, needed Lizzy Bennít in his life. The two of them, together, felt right, somehow. Like.. it was meant to be.

_ But that was crazy talk, _ Darcy told himself.  _ She’s just a friend. A hot friend. A hot, intelligent, practically-perfect-in-every-way, friend. Yeah. Just a friend, then. _

__ Gah! This was useless! If there WAS some magical, destiny soulmate-thing between the two of them, wouldn’t he KNOW? There was supposed to be some sort of sign! Not just speculation, but an honest-to-God SIGN. Ugh. This was stupid.

Darcy made a grumbling sound in the back of his throat as he pulled up to 220 Longbourn Lane. He surveyed the small house, internally smiling. Lizzy had been right. There were a LOT of gnomes. 

As Darcy slammed the car door and Charles hopped out the other side, he resolved not to think on the matter a moment longer. If he and Lizzy were meant to be, there would be a sign. A sign, a word, a bullshit-free miracle to prove that the two of them were a perfect match. He sighed, and rang the doorbell. Like that was ever going to happen.

The door opened to find Elize Bennít wearing the most alluring dress he had ever seen— one that patched his ridiculous red suit perfectly.  _ Well. _

__ He stood there, gaping, for just a second. It was not enough time— never enough time— to drink in her appearance.

Her dress clung to her form like a model, tucked in all the right places. A black ribbon marked her waist, and everything curved from there on. The dark red silk made her eyes look spectral and translucent— a vision in every sense of the word. The majority of Lizzy’s hair was pinned up, but there were stray curls wishing around her shoulders and neck, curling like smoke and drifting like cinnamon-colored clouds about her face. Her lips were full and pink, slightly parted in surprise, and a faint blush colored the healthy brown glow of her cheeks. 

She was beyond gorgeous. Beyond beautiful. She was… She was… 

“...Lizzy,” Darcy breathed. His eyes had yet to leave her, even for a second.

“Will!” She sounded a bit decomposed, but she quickly recovered and offered him an easy smile (though  _ he _ could tell it was forced). “We match.”

He looked down at his suit, as if just noticing he was wearing anything at all. “Uh, yeah. So we do.”

“Hm. What a coinky-dink.”

“Pardon?” Will asked, leaned forward quizzically. He tried not to capitalize on the fact that she seemed to lean away from him as he did so.

“Uh, just how we say coincidences. From a book, I think.”

“Ah,” he said, “What book?”

Lizzy hummed in response. “No earthly idea.”

They stared at each other for a little while longer. Then she laughed. “Fuck, everyone will think we planned this.”

“Who’s to say we didn’t?” Darcy asked, smirking.

She raised her eyebrows in a challenge. He raised one back, slightly higher than hers. Lizzy laughed again. “Fine, we can say we planned it. We DO have to take awkward prom pictures though. This is too perfect to miss THAT opportunity.”

“Okay…,” he trailed off, confused but not pressing it. “Oh! Uh, I brought Bingley along. Is that okay?”

She leaned past him to where Charles was standing, bouncing on his heels like a Labrador puppy. He waved, enthusiastically. Lizzy waved back. 

“Hey Charles,” she said, grinning. “Nice to finally get to introduce myself.”

Charles laughed delightedly. “Lizzy Bennít! God, after hearing about you from your sister and Darcy here, I feel like I know you already!”

“Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations,” Lizzy said, glancing at Darcy as she did so. He squirmed a little, and wondered how much he had said to Bingley when he was jet lagged and not in his best frame of mind.

Bingley though, looked joyous as usual. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll surpass them!” He said, holding Lizzy’s hand in a gentle sort of shake, “The, uh, expectations of course.”

“Well let’s hope so,” she smiled at Bingley.

**Darcy felt a sudden and completely irrational urge to stab his long time friend with a garden gnome.**

“Oh, uh, but where are my manners! Please come in.”

The two men both did so, one smiling more widely than the other. The second one however was even happier than the first, because as soon as he stepped through the doorway, Lizzy pulled him aside and very, very close to her.

“Listen,” she whispered, her mouth unsettlingly (and pleasantly) close to his neck, “My mom is on the prowl. How was your middle school experience?”

“Um.” Darcy was trying desperately to think of anything other than how amazing her breath felt on his skin, so close he could smell the faint scent of lime and mint that seemed to envelop her. It took awhile for her question to register. 

“M-my  _ middle school _ experience? Shit, not good.”

“Yeah, nobody’s was,” Lizzy said in a rush, “But you remember those girls? The ones who wore obnoxiously bright clothes and talked too loud on the phone? And were always asking you who you were thinking about hooking up with? The ones who were in the other-people’s-business-is-also-my-business phase? Those ones?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure he was following.

“Well, uh, my mom is still in that phase. Beware of very nosy questions. Probably about your bank account and possibly your hookers.”

“My what?”

“Shuddup, I’m on a roll here.” (At this, Darcy couldn’t help but grin. She was.. adorable) “Just try to be polite. Make the signal if anything goes wrong, and I’ll be there— Batman style. But, better dressed, obviously.”

She tried to move away, but Darcy grabbed her arm. Her brain was obviously working 20 miles a minute, but he needed a little time to catch up. “Wait, Lizzy.”

She looked back at him. He sucked in a breath.  _ Gorgeous. _

Finally, he managed to ask, “Um, what signal?”

Lizzy’s smile curved around her face. “Mention… hm. Mention Pepsi. I’ll know what you mean.”

“Right,” he said, hollowly. He was very confused, and felt VERY out of place. He was beginning to register the hubbub of the other rooms in the (admittedly cosy) small house. He didn’t belong here. This was.. not his scene. What—

Lizzy sensed his discomfort, and put a hand on his arm. “Hey..,” she said, slowly, smiling but faintly, “It’s gonna be okay, yeh? Just a few minutes of conversation, and we’re outta here. Got it?”

Darcy nodded. She patted his arm once, then moved away towards the sound of other peoples’ voices. Then, Lizzy turned her head and grinned at him with a pert look on her face.

“Oh, and by the way, Will…”

She licked her lips, and her grin widened. Her eyes were dazzling through a haze of mirth.

“You look very stylish in that suit. I like it.”

And with that, she was around the corner, and was gone. Darcy stood there, a second. Dazed. Then he shook it off, and allowed his smile to spread across his entire face. Maybe tonight was a sign, after all.

After his blush had died down and he had entered the kitchen however, Will Darcy might just have to rethink that last bit. But for now, he was happy. And that was better than he had been in a long, long time.


	16. Dynamics of the Benníts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy navigates the wilds of the Bennít household. Mrs Bennít and Mr Bennít both leave a... uh, a lasting impression. Fun dialogue, made me laugh. All Spanish that you can’t get just from context alone is translated at the bottom. Chapter is twice as long as usual, but hey— I had fun.  
> Will move on to the banquet next! And you already KNOW that’s gonna be a fun one :)

William Darcy, after taking a second to compose himself, walked into the Bennít kitchen. The sight that greeted him was… busy.

For a start, there was powder everywhere, along with stacks of papers haphazardly strewn about the counter. There were three young latino women who he didn’t know, along with an older woman with a red face and clunky jewelry, a balding man, and a plain looking woman with a turquoise dress and Asian features. Lizzy, Rosa Jane, and Bingley were the only ones he knew. He gulped. This felt like a business meeting he hadn’t prepared for— like one of those horrible stress dreams.

The older woman, upon seeing him, threw her hands up in the air and shrieked in a happy sort of way. “Ay! Hol— Hello! You must be my daughter’s.. ahm,  _ friend.  _ So good to see you!”

Darcy nodded, stiffly. “William Darcy. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ooooh, what manners!” Mrs Bennít fairly swooned, “And what a SUIT! Debes ser muy rico para permitirse algo así.. You’ve done well Elize, very very well!!”

“Ahm,” he said gruffly, shifting in his jacket, “Thank you?”

“Just what do you do, Señor William?” Mrs Bennít asked, a predatory gleam in her eye. “Elize hasn’t really told us much about you..”

“Well, uh, I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer!” Mrs Bennít exclaimed. She looked torn between ecstasy and apprehension. “What, ah… (¿cómo lo dices?) what uh, branch of lawyering do you... is your work?”

“I’m a corporate lawyer.”

“Ahhhh,” Mrs Bennít said, relievedly. She turned to one of the younger women and loudly whispered, “Con un ceño fruncido como ese, pensé por un momento que él estaba en la emigración, ¡y estaba a punto de arrastrarnos por divertirse!”

The woman (who, as Darcy noticed, was wearing enough makeup to outfit a circus brigade), giggled uproariously and whispered back, “Nah, he has that  _ engreído _ look about ‘im alright, but my money was on divorce law! ¡Alguien tan guapo (e infeliz) como él  _ tiene que _ ser desafortunado en el amor! Después de todo, he DID choose to date LIZZY of all people!”

Lizzy, her cheeks redder than Darcy had ever seen them, interjected in a calm voice that was NOT aligned with the strain in her face. “Mom, Lysa. English only around guests.”

Mrs Bennít nodded, but the younger girl (Lysa) just giggled again, and ran off with another young woman. Darcy shot Elize a grateful look, but her face was turned down, studying the floor.

“Well!” Mrs Bennít huffed (not unkindly). “Mis nervios— ah, perdón. MY NERVES are.. ahm, shot. ¡Ay carajo! Elize, why are we not speaking normal? I do not like switching for English to Español a Inglés de nuevo. But, ah, Señor William. You… said you were a lawyer for.. corporate?”

“Yes..?” Darcy answered, hesitantly.

Mrs Bennít’s eyes were alight in a way he didn’t quite trust. “Just how much money, would you say, you make in a—“

“OKAY MOM,” Lizzy fairly shouted, looking as distressed and uncomfortable as Darcy felt, “GOTTA INTRODUCE WILL TO DAD NOW, BYE!”

She fairly dragged him away from her mother. He.. couldn’t say he was not grateful.

“I am so sorry about that,” Lizzy whispered to him, shamefaced.

“It’s alright,” Darcy said gruffly. Then he tried for a smile. “I’m used to questions like that, just.. not in…”

“Not in other languages?” Lizzy supplied.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. My fault for forgetting to brief my mom on polite conversation beforehand.”

Darcy wanted to say something— about how it shouldn’t be her responsibility, about how he had had lots of conversations like that over the years, about how much Mrs Bennít reminded him of his Aunt… anything to relieve the stress and shame Lizzy was clearly feeling.

He eventually realized it was too late. He hadn’t said anything at all.

Lizzy led him over to where the skinny balding man was talking to Bingley. Darcy noted the amused half-smirk on the older man’s face, along with Lizzy’s affectionate eye roll, and decided he should try and make a good impression. He waited for a break in conversation.

“...just say that. Okay, son? It’s a sign of respect— she’ll really like that you’re using it. Now.. don’t you trust me?

“Are you— are you sure?” Bingley was saying, looking somewhat bewildered. “I thought Rosa Jane said I should just stick to the normal—”

“Bah!” The older man said. “Rosa Jane’s too Americanized! She forgets where she came from.”

“You mean how she was born in Portland?” Lizzy asked, raising an eyebrow, “And how you were not raised in any country that REMOTELY had Mexican culture?”

The man (Darcy assumed was her father) laughed. “Hush now Lizzy! Don’t you spoil my fun!”

Then his sharp brown eyes turned to Darcy. He lifted one bushy eyebrow. “Ah, and who is this young man? Lizzy, will you introduce us?”

“Sure! Dad, this is William Darcy. Will, this is my dad.”

“Please, call me Isaiah,” the man said, putting out his hand. As soon as Darcy took it, the man’s frail handshake turned to a vice like grip, and he pulled the younger man discreetly forward. 

“But,” he whispered softly, “If you want to live, you will address me as Sir. And if you wish to keep your tesicles intact, you will not lay a hand on  _ my _ Lizzy. Is that clear?”

Darcy’s eyes widened and flicked to Lizzy. She was distracted, waving over her older sister. His eyes returned to Mr Bennít, who was watching him with a fearsomely serene expression. He gripped Darcy’s hand a little tighter. He could feel his bones beginning to creak.

_ “Is. That. Clear?”  _ Mr Bennít breathed. Suddenly the skinny old man looked a lot more menacing. Darcy swallowed and straightened. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Then Lizzy turned around, and the threatening father was gone, replaced yet again by a harmless old man who smiled, perfectly congenial, at Darcy, daring him to say something. He grimaced.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Mr Bennít’s eyes sparkled with a smile, though his mouth was set in a tight line. “Oh, I assure you my boy, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Lizzy, seemingly oblivious, interrupted the ensuing staring contest. “So, dad, are you coming to the banquet tonight?”

“Ah, no Lizzy,” the man sighed wistfully, “I am to be subjected to a torturous evening of peace and quiet in my study. All alone! Save the tea and Tolstoy, of course.”

“Of course,” Lizzy laughed. Then she bit her lip. “Is, uh, mamá staying home too?”

The older man barked a laugh. “Stay home?! I would have to  _ padlock to the door  _ to keep her from going out tonight!”

“Figured as much,” Lizzy said sheepishly.

He patted her shoulder with muted affection. “Don’t worry, old girl. I’m sure you’ll be perfectly equipped to handle her.”

Watching the exchange, Darcy felt an unusual pang of regret. He had never had a bond like this with his parents. They were loving and doting, of course, and they were immensely proud of their son, they had always been a bit harsh on him. Expecting him to be better than he was. Not that he had minded. Or at least he didn’t mind in retrospect.

But this is what he had missed. Not the doting care of a parent to their young child, but the mutual respect between them when the child grew up. He never would have thought he would want to share someone’s responsibilities, but Darcy found himself aching for his father to laugh and tell him it was his turn to mind Aunt Catherine. 

“Speaking of your mother,” Mr Bennít was saying, “We should probably start to herd her towards the door. You know, once we get started, it’ll still be about twenty minutes ‘til you actually leave.”

He said this last part with a consistorial smile towards Darcy. The younger man wasn’t sure whether Mr Bennít had seen his discomfort and wanted to help, or simply wanted him out of the house. He offered a small half-grin, just in case.

Bingley, who had been dawdling eagerly on the sidelines, partially attending to the conversation (but mostly spending his time enraptured by the oldest Bennít sister), jumped forward.

“That sounds like a splendid idea! I can’t wait to get to the banquet. You said there will be music?” He said, before turning to Rosa Jane.

“Yes,” the soft spoken woman said. She smiled. “I think they have a whole playlist lined up for tonight.”

“Well, in that case,” Bingley gallantly offered his hand to her. “May I have the honor of dancing with you Rosa?”

Rosa Jane blushed prettily. “Of course.” She took his hand, though Darcy noticed she hesitated.  _ Was she embarrassed? Shy? Or maybe just being poli— _

Before he could investigate that train of thought further, Lizzy nudged him in the ribs and he grunted in surprise. 

“C’mon,” she said softly, nodding to the kitchen, “It’s actually a good plan to head out a bit early. Plus, we’ll get first crack at the food.”

Darcy nodded and let himself be pulled back to the kitchen. There, Lizzy performed a whirlwind introduction to her remaining family. Darcy did his best to remember the names. The quiet one dressed in all black was Marie. The twins, as Lizzy called them, were Katyln and Lysa. He could not tell them apart. The not-related woman in turquoise was her roommate, Charlotte.

“Do you need any help carrying the food, Lizzy?” Charlotte asked kindly.

“Um, yeah actually, if you don’t mind.”

As Charlotte scooped up a tray covered in tin foil and a delicious smelling bag, Bingley approached Mrs Bennít, smiling. “Do you need any help, Señora Cabrona?” He asked genuinely.

All movement in the kitchen by those who spoke Spanish stopped. Charlotte almost dropped her tray. Bingley looked around, bewildered. Lizzy sucked in a breath. 

Mrs Bennít stared at him, open mouth for a second, before snorting in disgust. She leaned her head up and peered around for her husband. “Isaiah!” She shouted, “You are going to pay for that! ¿Me oíste, bastardo?”

“What does Señora Cabrona mean?” Darcy asked Lizzy in a low voice.

She snickered, though her face was still in a state of awe. “Mrs Slut.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, paling.

Bingley, who overheard, looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. “WHAT? Oh my gosh, I am so sorry ma’am, I had no idea—”

“Oh, it wasn’t your fault, niño dulce,” Mrs Bennít said distractedly, “Go find Rosa Jane. Tell her SU PAPÁ IS SLEEPING ON THE COUCH TONIGHT!” She raised her voice at the end, angrily, clearly aiming the words towards her husband in the other room.

“WORTH IT,” came the husband’s bellowed response. 

Lizzy dissolved into silent laughter, and Darcy had to hold her up so she didn’t fall over. Her petite body was so light— he could probably pick her up, no trouble. She felt small and delicate, leaning into his side. Will Darcy had the sudden impulse to wrap her up and never let go.

Then the moment passed, Lizzy stood on her own again, and the kitchen once more became a place of bustling food and busy movement. Charlotte said something to Lizzy about the dish she was carrying, something about Lizzy’s special recipes.

Finally, after an eternity of awkward silence, Darcy finally found his tongue. “You cooked?” He asked, dumbly.

“Yes! I actually, um, really like cooking.” Lizzy smiled at him, looking slightly embarrassed (though Darcy couldn’t tell the reason).

“What did you make?”

“Brownies and Salmon Ceviche.”

Darcy didn’t know what Ceviche was, but he wouldn’t say so. “Well, it uh, smells pretty good.”

She must have sensed his confusion, because Lizzy began to explain the dish before her mother’s screeching voice interrupted her.

“‘Pretty good?!’ Elize’s dishes as a MASTERPIECE, every one of them! They not ‘pretty good’, even by _American_ standard..”

“I’m sure they are,” Darcy said, politely (though he was internally wincing at the sheer volume of this woman). “I’ve never had her cooking before.”

“Yeah mamá,” Lizzy interjected, chuckling awkwardly, “Plus, my Salmon Ceviche isn’t super good or anything.. it’s a little on the strong side for spice..”

“NOT SUPER GOOD??” Mrs Bennít cried, incensed, “Who do you think you are, young man, to insult MY daughter’s cooking in MY home?!”

Will choked on air. How was this going so wrong already?

“MOM!” Lizzy yelled, hoping to forestall the imminent tirade,  _ “I _ said that! Me! Not Will!”

“He said it, you said it, I said it— ¡NO ME IMPORTA! NADIE insults your cooking, Elize! It is the one gift you have to get a husband— excepto su cuerpo, por supuesto, pero incluso su hermana pequeña está más dispuesto que usted a utilizar eso para conseguir chicos. ¡Ay! So rude! You see, you see, Isaiah, this is what happens when we bring  _ gringos _ into our home— they insult our daughters and take what they want! ¡Ay, mis nervios!”

_“Pepsi,”_ Lizzy whispered frantically to Will.

“Wait, I thought that was my code word,” he whispered back.

“I don’t care whose code word it is, just please get me out of here!” Her eyes were wide and helpless, her sweet face distraught. 

Darcy once again felt the impulse to scoop her up and hold her close. Instead, he settled for raising his voice (a mighty feat, considering both his discomfort at attention and Mrs Bennít’s own volume) to be heard over the din.

“Why yes of course Lizzy, you can ride with me over to the banquet! But we better get going!” He said every word deliberately, loudly, like a fourth grader reading a somewhat boring poem to his class. 

“Oh you’re right!” Lizzy said in the same bad-acting tone, “We better go! See you, mom!”

Before Mrs Bennít could say another word, Darcy grabbed her hand (or perhaps she grabbed his) and they rushed to the door. Darcy felt a strange shift in his stomach when he realized Lizzy hadn’t let go, even when they made it to the car.

“What a nice young man,” Darcy heard Mr Bennít say, just as the door closed. He couldn’t tell if it was meant to be ironic or not.

But just like that, the door was shut, Lizzy was hopping in the passenger seat hissing ‘GO GO GO’ and Darcy was grinning at her like a fool as he whipped out of the driveway, because her hand was still in his. And, despite all the many… dynamics of the Benníts, Will Darcy was  _ not _ letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Mrs Bennít, about Darcy’s suit) “Debes ser muy rico para permitirse algo así” — “He must be very rich to afford something like that…”
> 
> cómo se dice? — how do you say?
> 
> (Mrs Bennít to Lysa, about his job) “With a frown like that, I thought for a second that he was in immigration, and was going to arrest us for having fun!”  
> “Nah, he has that snotty look about ‘im alright, but my money was on divorce law! Someone as handsome (and unhappy) as that has to be unlucky in love! After all, he DID choose to date LIZZY of all people!
> 
> (Mrs Bennít after being told off by Lizzy for speaking Spanish around guests) “Well! My nerves— ah, pardon. MY NERVES are.. ahm, shot. Oh fuck! Elize, why are we not speaking normal? I do not like switching to English to Spanish to English again.” (The joke is that she is literally doing that right then)
> 
> (Mrs Bennít, yelling at her husband for his prank) “Me oíste, bastardo?” — “Did you hear me, you bastard?”
> 
> Mrs Bennít calls Bingley niño dulce, which literally translates to ‘sweet boy’. Lol Bingley’s already her favorite
> 
> (Mrs Bennít, ranting about Darcy’s rudeness) “He said it, you said it, I said it— I DON’T CARE! NO ONE insults your cooking, Elize! It is the one gift you have to get a husband— except your body, of course, but even your little sister is more willing than you to use that to get boys! Oh! So rude! You see, you see, Isaiah, this is what happens when we bring white men into our home— they insult our daughters and take what they want! Oh, my nerves!”


	17. Lost in the Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Lizzy show up to the banquet. Fluff and snappiness give way to mildish angst. Banquet: Part 1! Long chapter— introducing the fearsome Bingley sister. Had fun writing this one. Will post soon! Enjoy 🌸

The ride over to the banquet seemed all too short. Sure, the first few seconds had seemed like a lifetime— all quiet and tense and uncomfortable, but soon Lizzy had taken to fiddling with the screen and pulling up his music. She teased him mercilessly for having ‘Top Fusion Jazz Hits of the Early 80s’ on his recently played. Darcy swore he had no idea where it was from, but really he just wanted to see her laugh. She had such a delightfully infectious laugh. It made his smile just to think about.

All too soon though, Lizzy was telling him to turn here and there, and they pulled up to a back parking lot of Merriton, one he hadn’t seen before. There was (admittedly tasteful) graffiti on the walls. Only a few better bottles broken by the dumpster. Much nicer than most college parking lots, he concluded with a nod.

The clicking of boots alerted Darcy to the fact that his companion was no longer by his side. His head shot up, looking for her, and he just about melted when he saw Lizzy’s supernova smile directed right at him.

“C’mon!” She called, putting out a hand from about twenty paces away. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Will grinned softly, and jogged to catch up with her. Together, they weaved through a few bushes and corner buildings, until they took a sharp right turn and Darcy was assaulted by the light of Brokenhaert Plaza. 

The gardens were even more spectacular than before— natural beauty in full bloom. Round tables were set up with blinding white placemats around a square of untouched grass; a long rectangular table held a mountain of food, steam drifting up into the sky.

As his gaze followed the wisps, Darcy’s mouth fell open as he looked up. Bridging the long gap between buildings was a complicated array of Christmas lights, all colors and shades swooping over each other, tangled in a meticulous web of twinkling brilliance.

“Do you like it?”

Darcy’s eyes lowered back to earth and to his side. Lizzy was looking at him. The red and gold and green glares of the Christmas lights outlined her hopeful expression. Her eyes sparkled like a psychic’s crystal ball— joyous, and nostalgic, and utterly undecipherable.

“I mean, I helped set some of this up,” Lizzy said in a rush.

She was twisting one loose curl over her ear, and it was distracting Darcy more than he’d like to admit. He couldn’t really remember what she’d asked him originally. He settled for a noncommittal, “Mmm.”

Lizzy looked away. Her cheeks were painted with the glow of the Christmas lights, pinched together just a bit. Darcy wondered what had upset her. Then, belatedly, he came to his senses.

“I, um, it’s magnificent, Lizzy. Really. Wow.” He glanced around again, wide eyed for effect. “I-it takes my breath away.”

He was rewarded with another beaming smile, and again, Darcy experienced a melting sensation in his torso. Briefly worrying about possible heartburn, he pressed a hand to his chest.

Lizzy (still beaming at him) clicked her tongue and very lightly punched his shoulder. “Dawwww, you sap!” She said teasingly, but Darcy could still hear how pleased she was.

He shrugged, smilingly. Lizzy, after a minute of grinning, stopped and hugged her waist, shivering mildly.

Darcy was about to ask her what was wrong when she answered that for him.

“I just—” she stopped, collecting her thoughts. “I just… I’m kinda anxious. About tonight, I mean.”

“What?” Darcy asked in a surprised tone. “You— it’s just that… you don’t _seem_ especially anxious..”

Lizzy laughed. “That’s ‘cause I’m good at hiding it. I’m really nervous, like, worriedly so. I don’t even know WHY I am.. I guess I’m just… emotional? I worked so hard on the food, and— and the lights.. if people don’t like it, I… I’m worried they won’t like _me._ God, I know it’s dumb, I’m sorry.”

“Woah, hey, it’s not dumb,” Darcy said, steadying her with his shoulder. “Not in the least dumb. It’s normal to have _some_ anxiety at events like this.”

As Lizzy nodded her silent agreement, Darcy, noticing her continued shivering, shrugged off his jacket. He handed it to her.

She tried to protest, but Darcy wasn’t having any of it.

“No, no. You’re shivering. Yes, I know it’s summer, but I don’t care, it’s still cold out. Lizzy— Lizzy, for Christ’s sake, stop trying to give it back. Lizzy. Please. Lizzy, DAMN your ‘feminist sensibilities’— I don’t want your night to be ruined because you don’t have a coat! Now, take it.”

“Thanks,” she said, _finally_ taking the damn coat.

“No problem,” he muttered ruefully.

Lizzy slipped her hands through the arm holes and fastened the few buttons on the front. Looking at her, there was no doubt in his mind that their outfits didn’t match.

And he couldn’t seem _to stop_ looking at her.

Something about her.. standing there, grinning softly, her hands hidden in the sleeves of _his_ suit jacket.. made Darcy’s mouth go dry. All thoughts of conversation flew out his head, replaced by who knows what.

All he could think about was how.. bewitching she looked, and how _right_ this felt. Darcy hated parties. He always had, and he thought he always would— until she was by his side.

Somehow, this quirky, opinionated, sarcastic cashier from Nowhere, California.. completed him. He felt like he could do anything with her. With Elize Bennít at his side, William Darcy felt like he could do the impossible. He felt like he was on cloud nine when she smiled at him— on top of the world. He could even enjoy this party, full of people he didn’t know, music he didn’t like, and food he didn’t care to eat. With Lizzy by his side, Darcy could scale mountain, move worlds. When he was with Lizzy, he—

Suddenly, he wasn’t. With Lizzy.

Then, although it had JUST happened, the moment came to Darcy as a memory. He had been lost in his thoughts, quiet for too long. He had made her uncomfortable. In his mind’s eye, Darcy saw Lizzy nibbling at her bottom lip, fidgeting with the sleeves of his suit jacket. Then, Lizzy had spotted a familiar face through the crowd, and her spark was instantly back. She had called out to whoever-it-was, rushing to meet them halfway.

Darcy felt something inside him rotting. He hadn’t even seen her leave.

And now he was alone.

Scanning the crowd, Darcy tried to find a smoky red dress or a wispy bun. But there were too many people. Steeling himself, Darcy pushed through the throng. Faces blurred on either side of him, features mashing together until all Darcy saw were eyes and ears, pinned on him, following him, even as he moved away.

The rhythmic pulsing of the masses beat rough and fast in his ears like a hummingbird heartbeat— volatile, rampant, smothering. Limbs jostled him as he pushed against the swaying of the crowd. An elbow caught him in the stomach and he stumbled, hard. He kept pushing, searching for her. But Lizzy was nowhere to be found.

A few times, Darcy would catch a glimpse of a familiar figure— a dress like Lizzy’s friend had worn, Bingley’s chestnut curls by the DJ booth, some short blonde who (looking from behind) could have easily been Gina. Each time, he tried to make his way over to them, but it was no use. They were always gone by the time he got there. He was lost in a sea of strangers. 

Before his blood pressure rose any further, Darcy extracted himself from the overcrowded tangle of limbs and laughter, eventually finding himself in almost the exact same spot he had started from. He surveyed the crowd, his expression bleak. What was he supposed to do now?

“William? William Darcy, is that you?”

Darcy fought the urge to sigh. Walking towards him in abominably high heels and fluorescent coral lipstick was Charles’ sister, the (in)famous Caroline Bingley. 

As he did not give into his impulse to dash away like a frightened gazelle, Caroline reached him in a matter of moments. 

“Oh William, how nice it is to see you here,” Caroline simpered. She was standing a bit too close for comfort.

Darcy grunted and looked away.

Caroline Bingley was… well, objectively speaking, she should be an ideal human female. She was intelligent, well-bred, wealthy, and drop-dead gorgeous. Unfortunately, her personality reminded Darcy of when you went to wash your hands and your sleeves got caught in the water, sticking uncomfortably to your wrists for the rest of the day. Or perhaps that wasn’t the best way to describe her. She was more like.. a rapid mongoose, with its muzzle covered in bright coral lipstick. Suffice to say, she wasn’t Darcy’s favorite person in the world. But still, he had known Caroline for years (as his best friend’s little sister); maybe even poor company was better than none at all.

Turning to her, Darcy said, “Evening, Caroline.” He tried for a smile, but wasn’t sure with the result. “It is.. nice to see you, too.”

Caroline looked like a dog that had just been thrown a long-awaited bone. No, not a dog. That sounded too… domestic. Like a wolf, or perhaps a black bear. Or even a mongoose again— only it had moved off of coral lipstick and onto fresh blood.

He really needed to move away from the analogies.

“Thank you, my _dear_ William,” Caroline cried, grinning as if she was in pain (though it may have been an attempt at flirtatiousness). “I haven’t been in this… _area_ long, so it really is SUCH a pleasure to run across a familiar face. Especially one.. so… sophisticated.”

She said this as if it was less of a compliment to him, and more of a set down to their surroundings. This observation was cemented with Caroline turning up her nose in barely concealed disgust as the younger Bennít girls passed, giggling and smelling strongly of alcohol.

“Indeed,” Darcy said, for want of better words.

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Caroline (as he knew) was perfectly capable of carrying on the conversation all by her lonesome.

“I honestly don’t know WHY Charles insisted on coming to this _ridiculous_ gala.”

“I think it’s a banquet,” Darcy amended quietly. She ignored him.

“It’s such a horror, don’t you think? A communal dinner, as if they can’t afford it on their own!” She tittered, but sobered her expression when she noted Darcy’s disapproving frown. “Oh, I’m just teasing. I simply meant they could be putting their energy towards other endeavors! Something less.. vulgar, perhaps.”

Caroline said this with a sniff. Her blue gem-like eyes were squinting in an unattractive way towards a group of teenagers dancing as if they were in a strip club. Caroline slyly glanced at Darcy.

“Surely dear Georgiana isn’t here. I wouldn’t think you would approve of her being.. among such… company.”

Darcy wanted to argue. He really did. But the fumes and the noise and the constant pounding in his skull was clouding his judgement. So, instead of defending Lizzy’s friends and family and Gina’s future school, he just said, “I don’t understand how any of the parents approve of this sort of event at all.”

Caroline squealed a laugh, as if it was funny. She laid a hand possessively on his arm. He didn’t have the energy to remove her claws. 

“You’re _so RIGHT,_ William,” she said, “I even think most of them are underage! Are they even checking for ID, or do they just not care?”

Darcy knew they were checking for ID, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I think they encourage it!” Caroline was saying, “I mean, look at _her.”_ Caroline pointed, not so discreetly, to where Mrs Bennít was handing out drinks and talking very, very loudly about ‘rich new boys’ or something. _Poor Lizzy. She would be so embarrassed._

Darcy shook the thought out of his head. He scanned the crowd again for Lizzy. This time, Caroline noticed. Her blue eyes narrowed in on his face.

“Who are you looking for?” Caroline asked, almost innocently though with no small interest.

“No one. I’m fine.”

She hadn’t said he _wasn’t_ fine, but Darcy didn’t care. Lizzy had left him alone at a party where he knew almost no one. Why should he keep looking for her? She obviously didn’t care about him half as much as he did her.

Without giving it much thought, Darcy grabbed a red cup from a nearby table and took a sip. He didn’t care what it was, as long as it was strong. It was. 

He nursed the unknown beverage for some time, eyes on the crowd as Caroline continued to grab his arm at every opportunity, and chattering on with thinly-veiled barbs about the party-goers. He took another sip, then another. It was going to be a _long_ night. 


	18. What Friends are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy POV now. Bit of angst, but mostly light. Longish chapter— banter, tho not w/ Darcy. I will post again soon, and this next one is gonna be ALL FLUFF 🌼🌈✨🍀🌸❤️ So be on the lookout for that ;) Love y’all

Elize always adored parties in Brokenhaert Plaza. The atmosphere was always strange and whimsical— and tonight was no different. The smells of the banquet wafted up through the summer air. She could detect pork and bread, lentils and paprika, sugar and olives. It was a wonderful hodgepodge that sent her mouth watering like a leaky faucet.

Those Christmas lights she had taken so long to hang up cast bright glows on contradicting colors onto the people below, making the bustle of the crowd seem like a portrait painted with many hues but only one brush— it all flowed and jostled together.

Even Will had complimented it! He had been so sweet too, looking soft and sincere in the dim glow of the party. Lizzy had been so excited that he had come with her; he was working his way up to being one of her best friends. And not to mention the spark she had felt when he passed her his jacket, and Will’s fingers had brushed her own…

But after that, Will had gone quiet. It was almost disconcerting how silent he was. His eyes stared out at the party, a hint of a frown on his unreasonably handsome face. 

Lizzy wondered if she had done something to offend him. Eventually, she couldn’t bear the tension, and slipped away.

Thankfully, she had spotted a familiar tanned face through the crowd, and a flash of a navy blue. Lizzy’s face split wide with a grin. She bounded off and threw herself into the arms of her long-time neighbor and longer-time family friend, Joshua Lu. He swung her around once, laughing, before setting Lizzy back on the ground.

“Why Elize Bennít, as I live and breathe!” He exclaimed, grinning crookedly, “I believe you’ve gotten taller!”

“Bet I have,” Lizzy grinned back.

“How long has it been? Two years?”

“Three and a half, Private,” she corrected with a twinkle in her eye. He blew out a sigh and swept a hand over his bristled ebony hair.

“God,” Joshua said, wincing, “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to having a title.”

“Yeah, me neither. To me, you’ll always be Joshy-boy.”

‘Joshy-boy’ laughed and patted her affectionately on the head. “And you’ll always be my sister from another mister, Liz-bear.”

“Oh, speaking of sisters,” Lizzy said, looking around, “Have you seen yours anywhere?” 

“Yeah,” said Joshua, amused, “I think she was lookin’ for you, actually. Something about ditching her at your parent’s house.”

Lizzy’s eyes went wide. She groaned, and buried her head in her hands. “Shit. I’m a terrible friend.”

“Hey, no pity party here, Liz-bear,” Joshua said, firmly, but not unkindly. “I think she was over at the DJ booth if you wanted to apologize.”

“Okay! Thanks Joshua!” Lizzy said, bounding off again.

“Hey, save a dance for me will ya?” He shouted after her, “They say all the nice girls love a sailor, but I think the best I can hope for is some stirred up jealousy!”

Lizzy, already moving away, laughing in response. Then Private Joshua Lu was out of sight, and she was swimming through the crowd with the ease of a red-clad porpoise. 

When she finally found Charlotte (just left of the DJ booth), Lizzy found her chatting with Gina Darcy about Gilmore Girls. 

“Hey,” Lizzy wheezed, severely out of breath, “Charlotte. I.. am… so sorry… for leaving you… at.. my folk’s house (ohdearlordIamoutofshape).”

Charlotte laughed ruefully, and patted Lizzy on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Liz. Gave me a chance to meet Gina-the-Queena, here.”

Gina blushed at the title, but laughed. “Unfair!” She said, “There’s no fun name that rhymes with Charlotte! What I am supposed to call you!”

“Except Charlotte the Harlot,” Lizzy grinned, leaning forward.

Charlotte barked a laugh, and slapped her friend’s shoulder. “You’re one to talk, Elize the Sleaze!”

“Oh dear,” Gina said, covering her smile.

“Okay, I get it,” Lizzy griped with no real conviction, “I see how it is!”

“Ooh, whose coat is that, may I ask,” Charlotte asked with a gleam in her eye, “Could it be? GASP! Mr DARCY’S?!”

Lizzy hoped her blush wouldn’t show under the Christmas light glare. “Shut it,” she smiled. 

“OooooooOOoooh,” her two friends said together. Lizzy laughed again. “I mean it! He’s just a friend!”

“Yeah yeah,” Charlotte teased, “a friend WITHOUT benefits!”

“Ugh no,” Gina groaned, covering her ears, “I do NOT need to think about my brother and ‘benefits’.” 

Lizzy and Charlotte both laughed. Soon, Gina joined in.

“Speaking of your red-hot-chili-pepper-boy-toy,” said Charlotte all in one breath, “You better get back to him. Looks like he found a… friend.”

Following Charlotte’s tilting head, Lizzy looked to see a woman with more jewelry than Tiffany & Co. drape herself across Will’s arm. He looked.. supremely unhappy. 

Lizzy frowned, and turned back to her friends. “Yeah, I better go see if he’s okay. Sorry, gals.”

Gina nodded understandingly and Charlotte made some remark along the lines of ‘if that was my date, I would do a lot more than “see”,’ which earned her a playful shove in both directions.

Laughing, Lizzy made her way through the crowd, over to where Will and the fancy lady were standing. She was approaching them from the side (NOT behind), but they didn’t seem to notice her.

“...appalling behavior!” The woman was saying, “I can’t even imagine something like this going on where dear Georgiana will attend.”

Will’s voice grunting. “She’s attending Merriton in the fall.”

“..oh. I see.” A pause. Lizzy resisted the urge to snicker. “Well, we might as well get acquainted with the…  _ locals.  _ Come along, William, let me introduce you to some of my friends!”

_ “Absolutely not.”  _ The force of Will’s voice was enough to stop Lizzy in her tracks. She had rarely (if ever!) seen him this angry before.

He continued. “If I wanted to know anyone here, which I highly doubt I do, I would have introduced myself already. These people are of no significance to me.”

Lizzy’s stomach dropped at his tone. Was that… really what he thought?

The woman though, seemed undeterred. She tittered a fake-sounding laugh and laid a hand on Will’s shoulder (to which he responded by stiffening even more). “Oh WILLIAM!” She cooed, “Why ever are you here then? Oh, I know. It was that… that girl you were with earlier. The one in red. She was very…  _ naturally _ pretty, don’t you think?”

She said ‘naturally pretty’ as if it was an insult— which, coming from a woman wearing three pounds of face power, it probably was. Lizzy gritted her teeth and kept walking. She was now close enough to hear when the woman leaned in and whispered to Will suggestively.

“I’m guessing all you wanted to do tonight was..  _ dance _ with her. Am I correct?”

“NO,” Will said, abruptly. He then lowered his voice, but not so much that Lizzy couldn’t still hear him loud and clear. 

“I do not have time to ‘dance’ tonight. I have no patience for people like  _ that.  _ And her? She was passable, at best. So don’t  _ fret,”  _ Will said, with evident disdain, “I would never do what you are insinuating with  _ her.  _ She is nothing. Now go find your brother, he’s more of a party person. You’re wasting your time with me.”

Just then, Lizzy appeared at his elbow, smiling in a way that was both hard and sharp. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey. Hello. Nice to meet you. So sorry about this. Is it alright if I steal Will away for a sec? Mmmmkay, bye.”

The look on Darcy’s face was pure  _ mortification,  _ but Lizzy honestly didn’t care. She took him by the elbow and (not  _ overly _ forcefully) led him away to a more secluded spot. 

On the way, Darcy started to say, “Lizzy, I- I’m so sorry—“

_ “NOT now,” _ Lizzy hissed through gritted teeth. 

Darcy couldn’t see her face, but he was sure the venom in her voice was enough to give him a clue as to what would happen next. He swallowed, cursing himself.  _ God, why had he said those things? He was such an ass... _

Finally, they arrived by a tree, some distance away from the hubbub. Lizzy let go of his arm and crossed her own. She still wasn’t looking at him. “Okay. Talk.”

Darcy rubbed his hands together agitatedly. He swallowed again. HE didn’t know what to say. He had no excuse. “Lizzy, I—”

“Actually, you know what?” She said, finally looking at him. Her eyes were a spiteful pale green, like snow-laced moss or an infantile garden snake. “I’ll go first.”

Lizzy drew in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they were glaring with unmistakable anger.

“Will. I invited you here because you are my  _ friend.  _ I like to think you chose to accept for  _ the same _ reason. Now, I know you’re new here, and I’m not expecting you to be Mr Sunshine-Happy-Face. But, dear CHRIST, I thought you would  _ be capable _ of  _ basic _ human courtesy!” 

Darcy looked down. He felt remarkably like a preteen that had been caught sneaking out for the first time. Also, he felt a little like crying, mostly because he knew he deserved every word she spoke to him. And she wasn’t even finished.

Lizzy continued. “And hey— if you don’t like me? If you don’t think I make a ‘PASSABLE’ friend?” She got no satisfaction seeing him cringe at the word. She bit out, “Then  _ leave. Just GO if you’re so miserable!  _ No one’s forcing you to be here! If you don’t like it— i- if you don’t like  _ me… _ ”

She trailed off, wretchedly, and something inside Darcy broke when he tried to steady her with his arms, and she moved away. She wouldn’t let him touch her.

“Just… just go,” Lizzy whispered, all anger gone from her, “Just go if you don’t want to be here..”

“NO!” 

At her face, Darcy dialed it back a little. He ran a hand over his face, feeling disconnected and utterly disappointed in himself, for mucking it up so quickly. “No.. wh-what I mean to say is…” 

He paused, struggling for the right words. “Lizzy, I’m not… good, with knowing what to say. I have… God, it sounds so stupid, but I get pretty bad anxiety, at things like this. Especially when I don’t know anyone. My heart rate goes up, and my- my hands start sweating, and I can’t breathe. I don’t like parties. I only come when I know I want to be there with someone I… someone I care about.  _ Please.  _ Ignore what I said, I- I’m an idiot. I just.. I got uncomfortable, and my filter stopped working. Please, give me another chance. I  _ want _ to be here with you, Lizzy.”

Lizzy, who had been staring at him during his little speech, started to soften. Will looked anxious and scared and soft in the dim glow of the Christmas lights. His dark brown eyes were wide and sincere, pleading with her. His lips looked so, so soft.

Lizzy let out a breath. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone. I didn’t know it would bother you so much.”

Will smiled, though not fully. More like he just pursed his lips and looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read. 

Lizzy Bennít was not made for anger, nor for melancholy. She shook herself off, put all thoughts of possible relationships behind her (know she knew he DEFINITELY wasn’t interested), and smiled at him.

“Come on then,” she said, grabbing his hand with a cheeky grin, “Let’s go rejoin the party, eh?”

He smiled at her now. She thought there may have been a twinkle in his eye, though that may have been a trick of the light. 

“I will follow where you lead, Lizzy Bennít,” Will said. His voice had a note of something like sincerity to it. She chose to ignore it.

“Then what are we waiting for?” She shouted jubilantly, “THE NIGHT AWAITS!”

And with that, she threaded her fingers through his, and pulled him off into the banquet, vowing to stay by his side the entire night, enjoy every one of his rare smiles and corny jokes, every twitch and tremor of his hand in hers, and to relish every perfect moment of their time together. 

After all. What are friends for?


	19. Not-Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy and Darcy at the party, D’s POV. Long chapter. Mostly just fluff with them crushing on each other :)) 💕  
>  Also, I’M SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN SO LONG, I honestly have no real excuse, I was just tired and feeling melancholic (note: I mentioned bolognese bc its actually my comfort food and my mom brought some over, so shout out to my mom who will never read this lol) and just didn’t feel like finishing the chapter then. BUT I did draw out the plot and HOOO BOY IS IT SPICY so look forward to that ;) Love all yall 🌸

After that, Darcy and Elize spent their time together practically joined at the hip. If one of them was stuck in a conversation, you could bet good money that the other was less than five paces away. More often than not, Lizzy’s hand was wrapped up in Darcy’s larger one (just so she could pull him along through the crowd, of course). 

Of course, they weren’t  _ always _ side by side. Every so often, Darcy would check up on his little sister, or Lizzy would dance with Joshua Lu. With the former, it was short-lived because Gina was aghast that her brother was ‘choosing her over Lizzy’ (to which Lizzy, hovering nearby, laughed and said she would probably choose over herself too [to which Darcy looked like he wanted to disagree, but didn’t]). With the second, where Lizzy and Joshua danced, it was short-lived when Joshua noticed his partner’s..  _ friend _ .. glaring at him and repeatedly clearing his throat. 

So, yes, other than those brief interludes, they were stuck to each other like Velcro, and neither could complain.

If they were trying to convince people they weren’t a new couple violently in love.. well, to put it delicately… they were doing a miserable job.

It must be said though, those who didn’t know them intimately were completely fooled into believing them to be, as they claimed, ‘just friends’. To them, Lizzy seemed just as chatty and effervescent with Darcy as she did with literally  _ everyone else  _ at the party. And for his part (the majority of it, anyway), Darcy came across as standoffish and more than a little uncomfortable— not exactly the picture of a happy new couple. 

But for those who knew them well, the difference was glaringly obvious. 

Lizzy’s gaze would flick to her companion’s face after EVERY joke, EVERY comment, as if to gage his reaction in the most tender sort of way. The softening around her eyes when she was rewarded with a smile said  _ volumes.  _

Also, the fact that William Darcy was  _ smiling. _ At a  _ HUMAN.  _ AT A  _ PARTY. _

But, as has been proven time and time again, the surest way to see if mutual awkwardness correlates to affection, is to ask. However, only one person at the banquet had the utter  _ gall  _ to pose such a question, and it was asked quite by mistake.

As it happened, Lizzy was leading her NOT-boyfriend across the dancefloor, making a beeline for the snack table. 

“So, what kinds of food are there?” Darcy inquired politely, as he was being dragged across the park by a woman who was  _ maybe _ ⅔ his height. He tugged at her hand to get her attention, enjoying the way she squeezed back.

“Oh lots of kinds,” Lizzy said breezily, as if she hadn’t even noticed they were holding hands. “But a word of advice? Stay away from my mom’s cookies. I have no idea how she does it, but she probably managed to get raw egg AND seafood in them. You’ll be in for a ride with those ones.”

“Duly noted,” he said, wincing away from the innocent looking platter of cookies. “Oh, what’s this?”

“Oooh, that’s Mrs Delo’s bolognese,” Lizzy said in awe. “I can’t believe she brought some! Usually she saves it for birthdays and holidays and the like.” 

Lizzy, in a blatant disregard for hygiene, dipped a finger in the meaty sauce and sucked it dry. “Oh my god,” she moaned, “fucking YES!”

Darcy’s own mouth had gone dry, and he was willing himself not to think about how she had shuddered and tilted her head back as she groaned. Some part of his mind was filing away her reaction, but the majority was absorbed watching Lizzy lick her lips and trying to hide his rampant blush.

“Seriously dude, you GOTTA try this,” Lizzy said, now licking her fingers as if she had never tasted anything that good. Her tongue darted out across her hands, smooth and quick and impossibly pink.

“Uhkfjl,” Darcy whimpered, helplessly.

She gave him an odd look. Darcy collected himself, and, just for good measure, began reciting the preamble to the constitution in his head. He smiled at her, weakly. 

Her brow furrowed despite this. “What’s wrong?” She asked, grabbing his upper arm. “Are you okay? You went all spacey for a sec.”

“Uhsuhh,” Darcy mumbled, before FINALLY getting a hold of himself, “I- I’m not very hungry.”

Lizzy gave him a look, then laughed. “Oh fuck THAT,” she said, grabbing a spoon. She scooped up some of the bolognese sauce and held it out to him, one hand cupped under the spoon to catch any drips. “Try this!”

Darcy blinked at the spoon hovering in front of his face.  _ Was she.. feeding him? This was awkward. Wait, it was more awkward the longer he stood there, doing nothing. Oh, and her face was so sweet and hopeful and teasing… GOD, JUST DO SOMETHING, DARCY YOU IDIOT!  _

Jumping forward, his face as red as the sauce in front of him, Darcy’s mouth closed around the spoon.

Immediately, he was awash in flavor. The sauce was thick and savory on his tongue: beef and tomato and something he could not identify. He reveled in the delicious taste, tipping his head upwards, and a rumbling moan slipped out. 

His eyes flew open and he slapped a hand over his mouth, mortified.

Lizzy was watching him, laughter in her eyes. “Good, huh?” She asked, with a cheeky grin.

He smiled back, abashed. “Yeah..” 

“Well then, let’s get some grub!” Lizzy crowed, and began labeling her plate with all sorts of goodies. Darcy picked out his own, allowing her to give him some recommendations here and there.

Just as he was dishing up some yellowish dish made of rice, oysters, and diced bell peppers, a matronly woman bumped into Darcy, stumbling against him and stepping on his shoes with marksman accuracy.

“Oh!” The woman said, flailing slightly before steadying herself on Darcy’s shoulder. “Oh, how clumsy of me.”

Darcy pursed lips and willed her to go away. He wondered briefly to himself why this woman touching his shoulder made him want to run away screaming and bleach his flesh, but he craved Lizzy’s touch like a heroin addict. He was thinking about the possible reasons he was constantly trying to work up the nerve to brush Lizzy’s hair away from her face and cup her lovely cheek and look into her soft green eyes as she leaned forward imperceptibly and met his lips with her own soft rose mouth slightly open and—  _ he was fantasizing again. _

He shook himself out of it. Darcy came back to reality just in time to see Lizzy do a double-take.

“Mrs Phillips? Is that you?”

“Huh, I—,” the woman stopped, and gave Lizzy a deer-in-the-headlights smile. “Um, why yes! And you’re.. you’re.. um, Isaiah’s favorite daughter! Ahm, Lindsey!”

Lizzy rolled her rosy lips inward, fighting hard against a smile. Her laughing eyes flicked to Darcy, who was busy fixing her with a softer, smaller, altogether different kind of smile. One of quiet adoration, just happy to be in her presence— one that Lizzy completely failed to pick up on. 

Mrs Phillips, on the other hand, caught it immediately, and looked curiously between the young folk, as if she was trying to puzzle them out in one glance.

“Well?” She prompted, with a slightly more sincere grin, “Lindsey, aren’t you going to introduce me to your… friend, here?”

“Of course,” Lizzy managed, her eyes still dancing with barely contained amusement. “Mrs Phillips, meet William Darcy. Will, this is Maddie Phillips.. my  _ godmother.” _

Darcy’s head recoiled a fraction of an inch, surprised. He suspended one eyebrow by his hairline, silently asking,  _ ‘your godmother can’t even remember your name?’  _

Lizzy responded with an impish smile of quirked lips and pushed back cheeks, clearly saying,  _ ‘well, what can you expect? Now play along, dummy-dum! She’s getting suspicious.’  _

When Darcy turned back to Mrs Phillips, she was looking from Darcy to Lizzy, to Darcy again. Perhaps they were more conspicuous (and more accurate) with their nonverbal conversation that Darcy had thought.

“So, what do you do, young man?” The woman asked interestedly, once she had Darcy’s attention.

“I’m a lawyer. Uh, real estate.”

Mrs Phillips nodded, vigorously. “OH that’s a wonderful career! My husband’s aunt’s neighbor’s brother was a real estate lawyer! I think. Either that, or a plumber.”

Darcy hummed a note of understanding before catching Lizzy’s eye and making a befuddled expression that sent her coughing outrageously to hide her giggles. He decided then, that he liked parties when he was with Elize.

“Anyhoo,” Mrs Phillips rattled on, smiling, undeterred, “It’s a very nice field to be in. How did you get into the field, Mr… uh, Mr…”

“Darcy,” Darcy supplied, somewhat stiffly. “And it was just.. j- connections. Just connections. Mostly.”

He left it at that. He  _ really _ didn’t like telling people that the real reason he had gone into real estate was because his family owned many shares of the company, and most of his close relatives either worked for Austen or owned a part of it. He didn’t like sharing this because, well, contrary to people’s opinions, he had NOT been given a free ride because of his name. William Darcy had worked hard for every offer, every scholarship, every promotion— he had been set on this path by his family, but by God, he was the one forging it. 

But people didn’t need to hear all that during small talk. He took a bite of his rice.

At his side, Lizzy snickered, and bumped her shoulder into his. Her face was pinched with amusement. “Really.  _ Connections.  _ Makes real estate sound like the mafia.” 

She laughed, before saying, “Seriously though, I kinda just pictured you in a full 3-piece suit, walking up a random skyscraper, and saying, ‘hullo give me a job I am a lawyer’ and them being like ‘well since you’re here…’ Like, connections? Really? You can’t just walk up and ask for a job anymore?”

He smiled down at her. “Well, with real estate, a position is a little more difficult than just walking up and asking,  _ Lindsey,”  _ Darcy teased, “I mean, it’s like Mordor there! One does not simply walk into it!”

Lizzy laughed, understanding the reference easily. “Well, what would be the one ring, in this metaphor?” She teased back. “Early retirement?”

Poor Mrs Phillips did not seem to be following the conversation. At this point though, she cut in rather eagerly. “A _ring?_ Oh that’s wonderful, sweetie! Have you set a date yet?”

Lizzy started, as if she had forgotten the older woman was there. “Um. Sorry, what?”

“A date!” Mrs Phillips said, “for the wedding! Have you set one yet?”

“Uh,” Lizzy laughed, bewilderedly, glancing at Darcy (who shrugged), “What wedding?”

“Your wedding, dearie!”

She was met with blank stares as she looked at the two expectantly. “For your wedding?”

Recognition finally dawned on Darcy, a second before it did Elize. “Oh,” he said, before his throat closed up. Lizzy made a little choking sound.

“Du-uh,” she stammered, bug eyed, “um, I- Will and I.. w-we’re not.. we’re not together..”

The woman’s mouth rounded in surprise. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. But you… Well. My mistake.”

Darcy wondered if the ground could open up and swallow him, just for a little while. Lizzy looked like she was faring about the same. He had never seen her blush this hard.

Mrs Phillips seemed to (finally) notice the awkward atmosphere. “Well, it was nice seeing you,” she said to them both, blushing slightly herself, “Um. Ciao!”

With that, she made a hasty retreat, and left the not-couple standing there in a sea of tension. Neither moved for a good twenty seconds.

“Well,” Lizzy said. Then she began to laugh. 

Soon enough, Darcy was joining in. He wasn’t so much laughing at the humor of the situation, but at the delight bubbling in his chest, the eager, excited feelings sparking through his veins when Lizzy’s laugh reached his ears. How just the way her face lit up made him feel like jumping for joy. His face ached from smiling, but he wouldn’t change that for the world.

“Oh my lord,” Lizzy said, wiping tears from her eyes as the last chuckles subsided. “That was… well, that just happened.”

“I know what you mean,” Darcy murmured back. He was finding it hard to take his eyes off her.

After that, Lizzy and he went back to filling up their plates, joking about tastes, debating culinary culture, and (this may or may not have been Darcy’s favorite parts) playfully feeding each other. They talked and talked, and somehow, not once did the conversation feel awkward or stunted to Darcy. 

He felt happier than he had been in months. And at a party, of all things. Yes. William Darcy was having  _ fun  _ at a  _ party,  _ full of  _ strangers,  _ and all because of a singularly enchanting laugh, from his  _ not- _ date. Life did indeed have a sense of humor.


	20. For God’s Sake, Leave Your Groove Thing Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest of the banquet. Looong chapter. Lots of dialogue, ALL darcy/lizzy. Tons of banter and fluff and also dancing (as the title would suggest). Featuring Darcy being a sweetheart omg 😍 he’s so crushing on her I gotta say. Also, there’s a mood switch in here so be prepared. Already working on the next! :)  
> Also, I made a sketch last night of this chapter and I thought yall might appreciate lol

“No. Now way.”

“Um, saying no isn’t an argument. And anyway I just meant—”

“No! There is _NO way!_ Never in a MILLION years, Will!”

“Lizzy, all I’m saying is that we have the right—”

“There is _no fucking way_ that mixing skittles and M&Ms is EVER okay. _No FUCKING WAY!”_

Will Darcy was currently taking great pains not to smile. He pressed on, “Look, Lizzy, be rational. They’re just candy, and they’re eaten individually! So what if they’re all mixed up in the same bowl? It doesn’t (much) affect the taste!”

Lizzy stood to his right, her arms folding across the borrowed suit jacket, the look of furious repulsion on her face outlined by the lights of Brokenhaert Plaza. The stoutly horrified look still plain upon her brow, she leaned forward until Darcy could feel her hot breath on his chin.

_“You. Disgust. Me.”_

She said it with such blind conviction, such a serious mein, that Darcy’s self-control fell apart, and he threw his head back, laughing.

Lizzy was, understandably, confused. “Wait, what!” She squawked, “You— you were just— just messing with me?!”

Darcy was so overcome with laughter he couldn’t even form words. As his shoulders convulsed with ecstasy, he bobbed his head in an affirmative spasm, absently hoping she understood it was a nod. 

Lizzy _did_ understand, and made a spluttering sound, and harmlessly beat her fists against her companion’s chest. “William Darcy!” She cried, struggling to stay outraged, “You— you— THAT ARGUMENT WAS TWENTY MINUTES LONG!”

“I know!” Darcy choked out breathlessly, mirthful tears sparkling in his dark brown eyes as he gasped for air, “And you— you— believed every second of it!”

He cackled, loudly, which was enough to startle Lizzy into a laugh. He had found himself laughing with her a lot in the last few hours. He couldn’t remember the last time he had grinned this much. As far as smiling muscles went, Darcy was sure tonight would give him a six pack.

After their laughter had died down (eventually), Lizzy was still leaning on him. Her hands were braced gently on his chest; he could feel their warmth through the fabric. Darcy found himself breathing a little soft, a little shallow, unconsciously trying not to startle her hands away. He liked when she touched him without thinking. It made him feel all warm and twitchy inside— though he would not admit that for the world.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” Lizzy remarked conversationally. 

Darcy’s answer was stalled a second, as she had taken to rubbing the fabric of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger. The minuscule movement distracted him. Endlessly.

“Oh?” He eventually said, raising an eyebrow in challenge, “Is there anything I can do about it?”

“As a matter of fact,” she grinned up at him, “There is.”

“By all means then, enlighten me.”

Lizzy turned into him, her head tilted down so that her face was obscured from view. But he could still hear the teasing smile in her voice, the enunciation of her coy amusement. It was making him giddy.

“You,” Lizzy said, poking his chest for punctuation, “Owe me,” another poke, “...a dance.”

“A dance?! _Lizzy…,”_ He groaned.

“C’moooon!” She pleaded. “Just the next song! Last time I’ll make you do this, I promise.”

She was referencing the only other time that night she had managed to drag Will Darcy out to the dance floor. The dance had been lively, and he had thought, since there were so many people on the floor, he wouldn’t get noticed. Oh, boy, was he wrong. There were now incriminating photos of him that he needed to burn. The less said about the incident, the better. _Damn Macarena._

Darcy _really_ wanted to say no to her. He _really_ hated dancing. And so far, the DJ had really only been playing catchy pop songs with mildly provocative lyrics, the kind that Darcy had no idea how to react to and avoided like the plague. He didn’t need anyone staring at him. Watching him. Judging him. He _really REALLY_ wanted to say no.

But then Lizzy was looking at him with those sweet green eyes, and that cheeky smile he was learning to adore, and Darcy knew he was gone.

“Fine,” he ground out, glaring as if he was mad, “But JUST the next song.”

“Eeeeeee!” Lizzy squealed adorably, bouncing up and down, “that’s awesome!! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. He couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face.

“Ooh, the song’s ending!” She chirped, all too soon. “C’mon!”

Before Darcy could change his mind, Lizzy was hauling him out onto the dance floor by his tie. With anyone else, it would have been humiliating, but with her…. _Well._

His smile may have bordered on goofy, and his blush was creeping over his face like a stealthy forest fire, but he couldn’t care less. Lizzy was laughing and calling out words he couldn’t quite hear, waving to people he couldn’t see. Darcy couldn’t care a whit.

What he did care about though, was the DJ’s voice as it cut through the brief silence after the song: the moment of rest before the oncoming storm.

“Hey what’s up my party peoooplleee!” The DJ called out enthusiastically. Lizzy and most of the crowd called back ‘wooo!’, ‘yeah!’, or some variation. Darcy remained silent.

“So y’all listen up,” the DJ said, “I’ve been gettin’ some recommendations for _slower songs_ and I think it’s about time I give in. So, all y’all couples out there, make your way to the dance floor! This next one is a sweetheart: ‘Beautiful Brain’ by Mabel Ye. Dance on!”

Darcy’s eyes were surely popping out of his he’d. He couldn’t seem to get his jaw to close. Lizzy’s face was red as well, but she mustered enough courage to bite her lip and look up at him. 

“Hey,” she said softly, over the first notes of the song. “It’s okay if you want to sit this one out. I won’t pressure you.”

“Wait, no.” Darcy, with a superhuman effort, swallowed the lump in his throat, and managed a smile. “I-it’s cool. We can dance to this.” His voice got worried again. “I mean, i-if you want to.”

Lizzy bit her lip again, smiling this time. “Yeah, okay,” she said after a while. “Let’s do this.”

Remarkably, Darcy’s hands were sweatier than they had ever been. _Shit._ Lizzy stepped toward him, and he shuffled back unconsciously. Hesitantly, she reached toward him, and he did the same. _God, this was as awkward as middle school._

They ended up with her hands on the base of his neck, and his resting lightly on her hips. He was half-afraid to touch her, for fear that she would feel how clammy his palms had gotten. He held her at arm’s length, desperately wishing he was brave enough to pull her closer. _This was.. torturous._

She looked up at him through her lashes. “So….”

“Soooo…,” he echoed back, deeply uncertain.

Lizzy laughed. “Ugh, what is with us now? We just spent like, the last 3 hours in non-stop conversation. And now, when we can actually hear each other, we can’t talk!”

“Yeah,” Darcy smiled, because he didn’t know what else to say.

They shuffled about in silence for a while, and Darcy let the lyrics wash over him. The song was nice. He hadn’t heard it before. _‘Conversation is a simple Hello to you… just like you from afar…’_ It was… shockingly apt. He shuddered, though he didn’t know why.

“It looks like they’re having fun.”

“Hm?”

“Over there. Rosa Jane and Charlie.”

Darcy looked over to where Lizzy was looking. Charles was holding Lizzy’s sister in a romantic embrace, cradling her body against his as they spoke in hushed tones, small smiles dancing on each of their faces. Nothing like his and Lizzy’s chaste dance.

He swallowed. “Uh, yeah. They do.”

“Ya know, I’,m really glad Charlie is—,” Lizzy stopped, then looked up at him with a calculating grin. “Wait, you’ve known him for a while, and know him pretty well, don’t you?”

“Moderately so, yes,” Darcy replied, shrugging to relieve the tension in his shoulders.

“Well?” Lizzy prompted, looking at him expectantly.

“Well, what?”

She clicked her tongue cheekily. _“Well,_ is he a good guy? How does he treat his girls? Is he ‘take it slow’ or ‘burn bright?’ Does he sleep around, or flirt a lot with women?”

“He, um, I, well,” Darcy stammered, reddening. “I- I- What?”

Lizzy finally seemed to notice how uncomfortable Darcy was getting with her line of questioning. She sighed, and seemed to soften into herself. “Sorry. I’m just worried about Rosa.”

“Charles is nothing to worry about,” Darcy reassured her, still blushing hard, “He, uh, is a good guy. He won’t— He would never— He won’t hurt your sister.”

“Good, good. It’s just…,” Lizzy glancing up at him. Her green eyes were slow and searching, her gaze meaningful in the dim lights. “I worry about her. She’s dealt with a lot more… strife, with relationships than I have.”

“Ah,” Darcy said.

Lizzy continued, “A lot of guys only cared about her looks— I mean, she’s a model, but yeah, there’s so much more to her than that. She’s really shy with boys, mostly ‘cause she gets hurt a lot. She’s dealt with a few creeps in her day. One wrote her like, hella stalkerish poetry. Sang it outside her window at three am. Scarred her for life. She swore off dating for a while, actually. And it’s just that… Rosa Jane’s not…,” she trailed off, as if suddenly aware she was saying too much. “I’m glad she’s with someone nice, this time,” she concluded.

“Good.. that’s… good.” Darcy cleared his throat, then looked at her quizzically. “Did you say someone wrote her poetry?”

“Oh my god,” Lizzy groaned, laughing at herself, “She’s totally gonna kill me.”

Darcy chuckled. “Oh ho ho, I bet. Gotta wonder what he said though. Was it just bad poetry? Or creepy?”

“Kinda both? I mean, it wasn’t bad for his age— we were in high school— but it also wasn’t good. Did come across as…. devoted.”

“That’s one way to put it. Not exactly the food of love, was it?”

“No kidding. Super weird. Also, it’s a bit hard to see the romance of rhyming ‘Rosa Jane’ with ‘Blows my Brain’ at three in the morning.”

Darcy laughed out loud at this, and he felt the tension leave his shoulders. 

Lizzy smiled up at him. They had somehow drifted closer, and Darcy could count the freckles that were dusted across her nose. She had forty four. At least, that was how many he counted before her grin widened and crinkled the lines of her face, throwing him off the count.

“You seem to be having fun.”

He hummed, then looked at her, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” Lizzy grinned, “You just had an especially stupid smile on your face.”

Darcy blushed, cleared his throat, and blushed again. She seemed to sense his discomfort, and spoke again, softer.

“Hey, hey,” she said, “It’s cool. It’s.. kinda cute, actually.”

Darcy couldn’t think. He needed to regain his composure before he did something _truly_ stupid. Like dance around in a circle, screaming for joy, because Lizzy Bennít had just complimented him. He looked down and away. He wasn’t able to look at her face, for fear he might combust with emotions. _What was wrong with him?_

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out without warning. Before he could stop himself, he was blabbering.

“I just, I’m sorry, I don’t get out very much and can’t take compliments very well and I don’t know how to talk to people I really wanna get to know better and I REALLY want to get to know you because you seem very intelligent and nice and fun to be around and make me feel better at parties, but, Lizzy, I don’t want to be—”

She put a hand over his mouth, forestalling his nervous words. Her face was nervous and drawn— acutely uncomfortable. She looked like she was in pain. But she smiled anyway. 

“Look, Will… it’s okay.” She took a breath, and Darcy tried not to obsess over the fact that her hand smelled like rock salt and lavender. She smiled at him. “I... just wanna be friends too.”

Oh. _Oh. Oh no. What the actual fuck was wrong with him. He had been about to say ‘I don’t want to be just cute to you’ that could have gone so wrong. HOW HAD HE MISINTERPRETED HER SO BADLY HE THOUGHT SHE MIGHT LIKE HIM BACK OH MY GOD. But she just wanted to be friends._

And he would have to be okay with that. He had to be, because if the last few days were any indicator, he would have a helluva time getting over her. Not… not that he had even had her! She was JUST A FRIEND. And that’s all she ever would be. HE DIDN’T EVEN WANT MORE WHAT DID IT MATTER. 

He licked his lips, and tried for a smile. “..okay.”

“Okay,” she said, and looked away. 

Darcy didn’t know what he felt, but there was a lot of it. And.. th-they weren’t even dating! He had barely known her a week! Why did he feel like, all of a sudden, his organs were being carved out of him, one by one? This didn’t make sense. This didn’t matter. _WHEN WOULD THIS GODDAMNED SLOW SONG END?!_

And just like that, the slow song was over, and Lizzy Bennít was pulling away from him. He let her go, feeling hurt and confused and trying not to show it.

“Um.. I should probably go… it’s getting late…”

“Okay,” Darcy said. What else was there to say? _He had never been good with words._

“Oh, here,” Lizzy said, shrugging off his suit jacket and handing it to him. “Thanks for loaning it to me.”

“No problem.”

“Well.. I’ll call a cab then.”

“Okay.”

“....hey Will?”

He raised his head (which he had lowered, mainly to avoid eye contact) with something between hope and anxiety flashing in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Lizzy bit the inside of her cheek and smiled at him sideways. “I had a really good time with you.”

This, finally, coaxed a smile from the suddenly-taciturn man. “Yeah,” he said softly, “Me too.”

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Bye!”

“Bye..,” Darcy said, raising his hand in a limp wave. And then she was gone.

He turned back to the thinning crowd around him, feeling unusually despondent. Displaced. He thumbed over his jacket before sliding it over one shoulder. _Damn it._ It smelled like her.

It smelled fruity and clean, like strawberry soda and chlorine pools. Sweet and savory and tropical, it had a faint smell of honey and lavender about it. It smelled like a thousand wonderful things, none of which could compare to the person who had just worn it. 

Darcy sighed. He left the party. He didn’t belong there anymore. Not without her.


	21. Luck: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy experiences bad luck after the banquet. Long chapter. A tad angsty (not really) at first, but gets sweet at the end :)

After he got home from the banquet, William Darcy collapsed into bed. A few hours later, he was awoken by a strange heaviness in his stomach, and the unmistakable feeling of rising acid in the back of his throat. He rushed from the bedroom, and just made it to the bathroom in time. He spent the rest of the night worshiping at the porcelain altar.

God. He hadn’t had food poisoning this bad in LONG time. He was at first (reluctantly) inclined to believe it was the Salmon Ceviche that had done it, after all it was just cooked with lime juice and probably had a good chance of being raw, but no. The toilet bowl was all cinnamon and mushed up cookie crumbs. _Mrs Bennít strikes again… Lizzy had been right about the food poisoning.._

Darcy, feeling like complete and utter shit, chose to take the day off of work. He called Bingley, but barely managed to get a few words out before he was forced to hang up. He _really_ didn’t think it was polite to have retching sounds in the background of a business call.

Besides, Bingley was busy anyway. He was supposed to be calling up Austen’s investors, making sure they were on board with the Netherfield Project— it would keep him busy for at least 4 more hours. Darcy was supposed to help him negotiate a bit, but, clearly, he was in no state to do so. 

He didn’t hear back from Bingley. He didn’t really expect to.

He was so woozy from all the nausea and the late night, that he fell asleep on the bathroom floor, and when he got up, cracked his head on the toilet bowl. He screamed a long string of expletives that no one heard before passing out on his way to get an ice pack. 

Darcy somehow managed to crawl over to his bed. He wasn’t sure how he actually got up into it, but once he did, he couldn’t help but notice the suit jacket from last night still strew careless over the covers. He bundled it up in his arms and breathed it in, not caring how pathetic he was being. 

He was sick, and the acidic bile rising in the back of his throat was making him yearn for anything— any taste or smell or stimulus— to get his mind off of it. 

The jacket still smelled like her. He wondered what shampoo she used. It smelled wonderful. Every time, like a different fruit. Today, it was watermelon. 

He almost started to cry, but he wasn’t sure the reason. Exhaustion, probably. Maybe some loneliness.

Gina wouldn’t be back at the condo until late that night. She had a full day planned out, trailing through different classes, trying to determine which language she would take. She probably wouldn’t even come into his room when she did. 

The only other person he really knew in town was.. Lizzy.

He didn’t want her to see him like this. He was just a friend, and barely one of those to her right now. They had spent, what? A ton of 7 hours in each other’s presence? He couldn’t call her up, demanding that she come over and help him. Though, the thought of Elize (maybe in a nurse’s uniform..?) bathing his forehead and wiping his face tenderly was appealing. _Mmm.._

No! He had no right to think about her in any kind of sexualizing way! She only wanted friendship from him. He had to remember that. So calling her out of the blue to ask if she could call off all her plans and take care of him… not an option. 

But.. he couldn’t… he couldn’t quite muster the energy to stop himself from taking the jacket she had worn, the one that in his mind was now unequivocally associated with her, and using it as a pillowcase. It couldn’t be helped if he buried his tired face into it, breathing in her lucid, watery scent as he fell into a deep sleep. 

It really wasn’t his fault if he allowed himself to dream that he was holding _her_ tightly, nestled into his chest as his eyes drooped, and his mind slowly faded away…

He woke up two hours later, and stumbled to the bathroom. Once more, he retched over the toilet, but this time, he felt better afterwards. 

Darcy was able to stand. Slumped against the wall, breathing heavily, with obscure stains on his shirt that he would really rather not think about, but standing. He looked in the mirror. He barked a laugh. _He looked like shit._

But, at least he could feel inside him he wouldn’t vomit again. That was something, anyway.

Groaning, Darcy pulled off his shirt and trousers, took a quick shower and stepped out feeling better on the whole. He even managed to brush his teeth! The only downside to being more awake was that he could now, with perfect clarity, sense how hungry he was. It was afternoon, and he still hadn’t eaten anything. On top of that, his haphazard naps had made him drowsy and bleary eyed. 

After pulling on a button down shirt and running his fingers through his drying curls, Darcy stumbled out the door to his condo, intending to visit the QuickaSnack for some food. He had gone twelve steps before he realized from the waist down he was wearing nothing but socks and boxers. 

His face got hot just thinking about what could have happened, had he not noticed.

Thankfully though, he ducked back inside, threw on some khakis and his shoes, and got to the QuickaSnack without any incident. When he got there, he winced at the bright lights and loud music, shuffling his way through the aisles like a hungover divorcee that hasn’t been outside in weeks.

When Lizzy saw him, he should have known she would react. She had just been about to wish him a good afternoon, when she stopped and slapped her magazine onto the counter.

“What the hell happened?” She asked, with no preamble.

Darcy tried for a smile, but ended up wincing. “And hello to you too.”

“Will, seriously, what happened?”

He feigned ignorance. “What? There’s nothing wrong! I’m fine!” 

Even as he said this though, his knees buckled and he stumbled into the chip rack. He managed to right himself, but the damage was done. Lizzy knew something was wrong.

She marched over to him with a determined kind of concern. “Come. Now.”

He didn’t argue much. He just let Lizzy drag him back over to the counter. She dragged him places a lot, it would seem. He didn’t really mind. Still, he didn’t want Lizzy to worry about him unnecessarily— she seemed like that kind of friend, so he took it upon himself to dissuade her.

“I told you, Elize, I’m fine!” He protested, unconvincingly.

“Tch tch,” she clucked in response, shushing him with a shake of her head. She pushed him behind the counter and into a chair. He resisted, mildly. “You should know by now not to argue with me, William. Now sit.”

He sat. The chair behind the QuickaSnack counter was.. surprisingly comfy. Darcy wondered idly if Lizzy would mind too terribly if he just curled up on the seat and dozed off. But then Lizzy’s hands were cupping his face, and she was leaning so close to him that their nose almost collided, and suddenly dozing off was the last thing on Darcy’s mind.

Lizzy was turning his face side to side, frowning as she examined him, and brushed her hand across his forehead, softly tousling his curls. Darcy tried to hide the wince when her probing fingers found his still-forming bruise. Evidently, though he was unsuccessful, and her focus snapped back to him.

“Ugh, _Will,”_ she said, chidingly, her fingers running across his hairline (presumably checking for more damage), “What did you do?”

Darcy coughed delicately. “Hit my head.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Lizzy said dryly. Her tone was joking, almost dismissive, but she was peering at him with such intense concern that Darcy shivered (though he wasn’t sure what emotion preceded the motion). 

She was still watching him carefully. “How did you hit your head?”

Darcy sighed, brushing her hands away from him and sitting up. “You really wanna know?” He asked, a thread of annoyance he didn’t really feel creeping into his voice.

She inclined her head, ever so slightly. He sighed again.

“SO, last night, I got food poisoning. Pretty badly, too. Spent the whole night.. and most of the morning, throwing up. And.. well..,” Darcy hesitated. He reddened. _This was so embarrassing._

“I.. alsomayhavepassedoutandhitmyheadonthetoiletseat,” he finished in a rush.

Lizzy slowly leaned away from him, against the counter. She folded her arms and casually chewed at the inside of her cheek— the only thing that gave her away were the eyes. Round and intense and concealing some great emotion behind their cool greet exterior.

“You..,” Lizzy said, her voice as slow and as calm as a stalking tiger, “got food poisoning. All night. All alone.”

Darcy didn’t think it was safe to nod. He just stared at Lizzy, her eyes still boring into him. He gulped.

“Uh. Well. Um.” Darcy felt like his throat was closing up. He could sense he was treading on thin ice, though he didn’t know why. “Gina was out with classes, and Bingley was handling calls. But I can take care of myself. D-don’t worry.”

“You could have called _me.”_

Darcy felt like he was sweating, though the QuickaSnack was very well air conditioned. He licked his lips. “Well, I just.. didn’t want to bother you. It was late. I’m sure you were busy. I was fine. I… well, I- I didn’t want to bother you.”

Lizzy put a hand to her face. Darcy got the impression he had said the wrong thing. He just wished he knew what the right thing _was._

“You,” she said, her body _just_ shy of quivering with rage, “didn’t... You _passed out,_ hurting yourself in the process, suffering through hours of misery, all alone, violently ill, and _didn’t want to BOTHER ME?”_

“Um,” Darcy said weakly, “Yes?”

 _“Maldito chico estúpido,”_ Lizzy muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she raised her head, her voice raised with it. “Will! That’s not okay to do! Damn it, it’s unhealthy not to ask for help! You— you could’ve gotten—”

She stopped herself, and drew near again. She put a finger in his face, right up to his nose. Darcy got cross-eyed trying to keep it in sight.

“Next time,” Lizzy fairly growled, her voice barely under control, her chest heaving, _“The next time_ something like this happens, and you get sick, or you get hurt, prométeme, _promise me_ you’ll call. I don’t care what time it is, I don’t care how busy you think I am— CALL. I don’t want you hurting yourself just because you don’t have anyone there to take care of you. Next time— call. Promise me you’ll call, Will.”

“I promise,” Darcy said, dazedly. In all honesty, he was a little overwhelmed by how passionate Lizzy got about his well-being. _Wait. Did she…? Was she rethinking..?_ Darcy stared at her, intently, his eyes roaming her inscrutable face, searching for some sort of sign.

After a second, Lizzy’s eyes snapped to his, and she reddened. Lizzy smiled, and donned a playful tone. “You know, you have friends now, Mr Darcy. No need to suffer alone.”

 _Ah, apparently not then._ But that was no worse off than it was before. Pushing aside his dashed hopes, Darcy grinned at her, cocking an eyebrow.

“Are you suggesting that I didn’t have friends before, Miss Bennít?” He inquired with what he hoped to be an effortlessly saucy smirk.

“Oh no sir!” Lizzy gasped in a British accent. “I would never insinuate such a thing to a gentleman such as you! I am but a demure little.. maiden… that…,” she trailed off, and dropped the pretense with a snort.

“Shit, I can’t do an innocent voice,” Lizzy grinned at him. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was insinuating, you presumptuous shit lizard.”

Darcy barked a laugh of surprised delight. _“What_ was that insult!?” he chortled. “I’ve been called many things in my life, but a ‘presumptuous shit lizard’ has yet to make the list!”

“Well maybe it should,” Lizzy winked, laughing.

Darcy looked at her, utterly enraptured by her smile. He never thought he would feel so much, because of something so insignificant. She was perfect. He didn’t know why— had he been in a more rational state of mind he could have categorized dozens of flaws— but she was. _Perfect._

He was charmed to notice that the longer he looked at Lizzy, the more she seemed to blush. Eventually, she broke eye contact, but they were both smiling. They kept on smiling as Darcy got up from the chair and walked back to the aisles; they both snuck glances at each other from behind racks of food.

Eventually, after a while too long, Lizzy remarked with a cheeky grin, “Hey Will, are you gonna actually buy anything?”

Will jumped from his position, bent over, inspecting the bakery section. He looked guiltily up at her, and she laughed.

“Actually,” he said, a little color rising to his cheeks, “do you still have any of those brownies from last night? They were really good.”

Lizzy awarded him with a pleased sort of smile before shaking her head. “No, sorry. Glad you liked them, but apparently so did most people. No leftovers, sorry.”

“Ah,” Darcy said, straightening. He felt a little disappointed; he had been beginning to crave them.

“But hey, I have the recipe, if you want it!”

Darcy was about to protest (he was a really terrible cook and hated all sorts of culinary activities), but then Lizzy was scribbling something on a crumbled slip of paper and pressing it into his hands. He looked down at the recipe, and at the top she had written: _‘Most Importantly: Bake with Your Heart’._

He smiled at her, and hoped she couldn’t see his heart melting. “Thanks,” he said, with no little emotion. ”I’ll get right to it then.”

He should have known that was a mistake. But right then, his incredible luck seemed like it would hold. How could he have known that it wouldn’t?


	22. Luck: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy’s POV. Will has an emergency, and she rushes over to help. Pointless fluff, Longish chapter, mutual pining ❤️

It was mid-afternoon when Lizzy Bennít got the call.

It was to her cell phone, from Will’s number. When she answered it with the giddy, guilty feeling she hadn’t experienced since middle school, only to have her ears assaulted by an ungodly sound. It sounded like an out-of-tune fire truck, a siren of some kind, along with a great deal of crashing sounds that sounded sort of like a thunderstorm.

Behind the noise, there was Will’s voice, muddled and screaming out a message. “LIZZY?!”

She winced. “Yes?”

“LIZZY THANK GOD.”

“Will? Will, what’s going on?”

The sirens and the crashing continued. Lizzy had to plug one ear to make out what Will was saying. “LIZZY THE SMOKE ALARM WENT OFF. I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON THERE’S WATER EVERYWHERE AND MAYBE SOME FIRE AND THE GODDAMN ALARM WON’T TURN OFF WHAT DO I DO?!?”

“Um, you.. you…” Lizzy’s mind had gone blank. She shook her head to dispel the sudden sense of bewilderment. 

“LIZZY CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yeah, yeah I can hear you.”

“LIZZY PLEASE I NEED HELP! IF YOU KNOW HOW TO TURN THIS THING OFF PLEASE IT WON’T STOP.”

“Hold on,” she said into the phone, “I’ll be right there.”

Lizzy hung up and rushed out the door, before realizing, A) it was in the middle of her shift at the QuickaSnack, and B) she had no idea where Will even lived. She fixed the first problem by running to find Mr G, who assured her it was fine and he could man the counter for a few. The second was more tricky though.

She had.. no idea where Will would live. He had just come to town, so maybe an apartment? No, she couldn’t picture Will living somewhere like her apartment. He was too fancy.  _ Hhmm, fancy.  _ Where would someone live, with a lot of money, in a town like this?

_ The greenhouse district. Of course.  _ The greenhouse district would have been the rich side of town, had Merriton been a big enough town for that. The greenhouse district was just a street, filled with rich-people condos that constantly had their sprinklers on, no matter the weather (hence the nickname). It was also a prime spot for wealthy college students who didn’t want dorms, so it would make sense for Gina Darcy to be there. Yeah, if Lizzy had to bet, she would put good money on the Darcys being there.

It was only a six minute walk, but by sprinting, Lizzy was there in two. Once she got there, she pushed past the main entrance, nodded to the security guard (who had known her since she was 3), and followed the faint sound of sirens. They led up to the second floor, the first door on the right. Smoke was coming out from behind the door frame.  _ Yup, this was the one. _

As Lizzy raised her fist to knock, the door swung open to show a frazzled looking Will, sopping wet, and a whole lot of smoke.

“THANK GOD,” he said over the racket behind him, then pulled her inside. 

Lizzy coughed and held her shirt up over her mouth. “JESUS CHRIST WHAT DID YOU DO IN HERE?” She shouted, roaming through the smog-filled rooms (it was a very large space). She tried to avoid the sprinkler system at first, but then just gave up.

“I CAN’T BAKE,” he yelled, by way of explanation. Lizzy almost laughed, but then she just coughed instead, some of the sprinkler system water going down her throat.  _ Nice.  _

“OPEN A WINDOW, WHY DONTCHA?” 

Will flashed a thumbs up, then ran over to the balcony (HE HAD A BALCONY) and flung open the doors. Lizzy, meanwhile, had located the smoke detector. It was an angry manilla circle that flashed crimson in the ceiling. Just under it, an oven sat. Lizzy couldn't tell if the oven’s decour was purposefully black or just singed. 

Lizzy, being without her handy-dandy screwdriver, grabbed a butter knife. She stood on a chair and began to unscrew the alarm’s power compartment with the knife. Her eyes started to water as she did so, but after what seemed like an interminable time, the case popped open and 2 batteries dropped to the floor. 

Lizzy held down on the power button until the irritated light switched off, and the beeping was no more. The relief in the condo was permeable in the ensuing silence.

“Thank you,” Will said, coming towards her through what was left of the smoke. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey don’t worry about it,” she replied. She felt a bit awkward suddenly, standing on a chair, dripping wet, in her friend’s unfamiliar condo.

Will however, seemed not to notice the awkwardness, and strode forward and lifted Lizzy down from the chair. She could have easily got down herself, but his arms were so strong and his body so warm (despite the sprinklers soaking him to the bone), that Lizzy allowed herself to be selfish, just for a moment.

After Will set her down, he seemed to take note of their (slightly awkward) predicament. “Ah jeez,” he said, color rising to his pale face, “I’m sorry. You got all wet because of me.”

Lizzy had to bite her tongue to keep from making a  _ really _ suggestive joke. 

Instead she just shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. “S’okay. I’m the one who insisted to be the emergency contact earlier. How was I supposed to know you’d  _ actually  _ have an emergency?”

“You couldn’t have known how bad I am at cooking,” Will chuckled self-deprecatingly.

Lizzy glanced around the kitchen with raised eyebrows. “Was this.. from trying to bake the brownies?”

Will’s pale face became a slightly deeper shade of red. “Uhm. Yes.”

She laughed, shaking her head. _“Jeez.”_

“I know, right.”

“You  _ did _ remember to take the brownies out of the oven,” Lizzy checked. 

Will’s face was one of comical surprise. “SHIT!”

Lizzy laughed again as Will ran around her to the oven, frantically slamming it open and pulling out a blackened sheet of what looked to be charcoal. He dropped it just as quickly as he picked it up, howling in pain. Lizzy stopped laughing, and winced. He hadn’t worn oven mitts.

Will rushed over to the sink, shaking out his probably blistered fingers before fumbling with the handle. Lizzy jumped over to help him turn it. He let out a great sigh of relief once the cold water hit his palms.

As Will was running his hands under the water to soothe his burns, Lizzy looked around the condo, curiously. It was at least 3x bigger than her apartment, and the furniture was chic and probably laced with gold and llama fur. WAY too clean. Not one fiber of the rug was out of place. She snickered. 

The noise seemed to bring Will’s attention back to her. He smiled, abashed. “OH, uh, there are some towels in my bathroom. It’s just past the couch, second door.”

“Thanks,” Lizzy said, walking to it. She pulled open the door, walked through a darkened bedroom, and to the adjacent bathroom. When she walked in and flipped on the lights, she almost burst out laughing. 

Though Will was (apparently) a neat-freak, his bathroom seemed to be the exception. The mirror was  _ covered  _ in sticky-notes. They covered almost the entire surface, only in one face-shaped space above the sink could you actually see your reflection. Some sticky notes had little smiley faces, some had checklists, and some just had words or dates. 

Lizzy smiled to herself. So, Will Darcy was forgetful, and left himself reminders on the bathroom mirror. It was.. sweet. Lizzy felt privileged that she could see this side of him. 

She amused herself by taking a blank sticky note, and slapping it right in the middle of the bare patch of the mirror. On it, she wrote ‘SMILE, YOU SOURPUSS’. 

Feeling brave, she drew a little heart on it. Until she remembered Will didn’t like her in that way, and by making a move she could potentially ruin their friendship. So, stead, she just added in a bunch of hearts and stars and smiley faces, so many that they didn’t really matter. She sighed, and put the pen down.

Lizzy grabbed a fluffy towel, and wrapped it around her shoulders. The day was a hot one, and with the lingering heat from the kitchen, she wasn’t cold at all (despite being doused by the sprinklers). 

When she walked out of the bathroom, Lizzy had planned to go straight through Will’s bedroom without looking up (to protect his privacy), but something on the bed caught her eye. It.. looked like… it was the red suit jacket, the one from the banquet! It was wrapped around one of Will’s pillows, wrinkled and looking almost threadbare.

Lizzy looked at it, for a moment.  _ Why would Will keep that jacket in his bed?  _

Suddenly, she nodded in understanding. She clicked her tongue.  _ Poor Will.  _ He had been too tired to take off his jacket, and had fallen asleep with it! Aww. He must have been really out of it.

Smiling slightly, Lizzy walked back out, to where Will was still running his hands under the cold water. He looked up as a greeting.

“Sooo,” Lizzy said smilingly, leaning over the counter, “I cracked your code.”

He glanced up again, bewildered. “What code?”

“Your neat-freak code.”

“Ahh. And what did you find?”

“Your jacket still in bed.”

Will started, splashing water out of the sink. He turned off the faucet quickly, his face blushing fiercely as he avoided her gaze. Lizzy watched him, curious.

He coughed, and looked about as embarrassed as a person can get without spontaneously combusting. “Look, Lizzy.., I can explain..”

She laughed. “What? That you were so out of it you just collapsed in bed, without even changing clothes?”

He stared at her for a moment. Then he grinned with what looked like relief. “Ah, um, yes. Th-that’s exactly it. You caught me, ha ha.” 

That laugh was hella fake, but Lizzy let it slide. He was clearly uncomfortable and she already knew all the facts, so there was no need to press the issue. Instead she reached forward. “Hey, let me see your hands.”

Reluctantly, or perhaps gratefully, Will let her take his hands. She turned them over, palms up, and examined them. She tut-tutted in pity. “Yikes. You’re def gonna get blisters.”

“Ugh. Great.” 

Lizzy giggled.  _ “Aww, poor baby Will,” _ she said, in a baby voice. 

Will made a face. “Don’t do that,” he told her, frowning. “It’s demeaning.”

_ “POOR BABY WILL,”  _ Lizzy continued gleefully,  _ “DID YOU GET A BOO-BOO?” _

He didn’t even deign to respond. 

Lizzy grinned. She brought Will’s hands (big and red and painful-looking) and kissed them gently, without thinking about it. “There,” she said, “All better.”

Will’s face was frozen in an inscrutable expression. Only his eyes were moving, huge and wide, the beautiful brown color almost completely eaten up by his pupils. He looked as if his brain was short-circuiting.

Lizzy blushed.  _ She shouldn’t have done that. She’d gone and made him uncomfortable.  _ She patted his hands, awkwardly. “Well, I, uh, better get back and change clothes.”

“Okay.”

“I have to get back to my shift.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything else you need help with?”

“Okay.”

Lizzy’s smile pushed up at her eyes. She tugged at her hands. “Um, Will, you’re gonna have to let go of me now.”

That seemed to bring him back to the present. His face turned the color of a tomato. He let go of her hands as if they were hotter than the brownie plate. “Uhm, yeah, okay,” he stammered, obviously deeply disconcerted. “I- Um. Bye.”

“Bye,” Lizzy said, backing away. Something about the atmosphere had changed, and Lizzy felt like if she stayed any longer, things would just get more and more awkward. Before that could happen, she fled, his towel still wrapped around her shoulders.

Had she looked back, Lizzy would have seen William Darcy, the forgetful, introverted, arrogant, rich, prideful man, staring down at his hands where her lips had touched, with a brilliant smile gracing his dazed face. As if he was happy. As if he was in awe of what had happened.

As if he couldn’t believe his luck.


	23. The Responsibility of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting in the last few days!! I had writer’s block, but I got over it with the power of really good music and some ice cream, and AM READY TO ROCK N ROLL! 🤠  
> This chapter is a long to make up for the time wasted. Mostly just banter, but not E/D :( Getting ready for the Netherfield Arc! Stay tuned!

As it happened, it took about three and a half minutes for William Darcy to fully regain his ability of speech. He didn’t know why he was so affected— no, actually, he did. 

Over and over again, in his mind, Darcy saw Lizzy bring his hands up to her sweet heart shaped face, feel her lips on his skin— softer than he could have imagined— and her brilliant smile that robbed him of his senses.

Darcy stared at his hands. He gingerly brushed his fingers over where her lips had touched. He shuddered, though not unpleasantly. God, why had that simple touch, that unimportant kiss, ignited him from the inside out. Elize was addictive. He couldn’t get enough of her; never enough.

He was dripping wet with icy water from the fire alarm, but Darcy was burning alive.

It took another half hour for him to regain control of his senses. He shook all thoughts of Lizzy Bennít out of his head. He sighed, and looked around the condo. Everything was soaked; he had to call the building’s housekeeping staff, and they assured him they were on their way. 

Instead of remaining in the condo and enduring small talk with the staff, Darcy sought out the refuge of Netherfield. He texted Charles beforehand, to let his partner know he was feeling better now and was on his way. 

Ms. Bennít (Rosa Jane) had, graciously, set up a sort of office space on the property. Since Playpen was a relatively large facility with a relatively small number of children, there was an entire floor of the building that was not being used. So, she had taken the time to arrange some desks and files and provisions. It may have been a selfless act, but Darcy noted that ever since Ms Rosa had set it up, Bingley had been spending more and more time there. 

Darcy walked through the halls of Playpen. It was the weekend, and the whole place had a sort of hollowed-out feel to it. Darcy found his office space, set down his bag, and surveyed his calendar.  _ Shit, he was behind in almost everything. He needed to step up his game. _

Just as Darcy was about to reschedule a meeting with some investors, his phone rang. The FaceTime notification showed a picture of his Uncles Matlock on the beach, holding margaritas and a few enthusiastic thumbs-ups. He answered it.

“Hello?”

Static. A black screen. “KhJHKJHKKKKYHHKHjjKk”

“Hello? Uncle Roger, can you hear me?”

“KHKjjkkkkwhat’sthisbuttondGWJJKHKHjkKJDARNMACHINEhdjhfkfjgjkkjjÉMILEWHAT’SGOINGON?!kjkjjfhjKJKhkkhHHh”

Darcy waited patiently as his Uncle Émile fixed whatever his husband had done to the FaceTime. Sure enough, soon both their faces popped up on the screen. His uncle Émile had an amused expression on his normally placid face, and uncle Roger was ruddy with frustration.

“Finally! Damn thing wasn’t working right!” Roger exclaimed with an angry kind of relief.

“We’ve been having WiFi troubles lately,” Émile informed Darcy in his mild mannered way, putting a soothing hand on Roger’s arm. “But we wanted to check in with our nephew a little! How have you been?”

“I’ve been well.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear.” Uncle Émile’s face took on a pained expression. “Well, we just wanted to make sure. We heard.. well, you see, some of the executives at the firm…”

“We heard you’re blowing off your responsibilities for some hippie pro bono project!” Uncle Roger exploded.

Darcy winced, propping his phone up on the desk to get a better view. “Uncles, it’s.. it’s not pro bono.”

“Then what the hell are you doing? You haven’t been answering the calls, or coming to virtual meetings, you fly off to some NOWHERE TOWN to do some MYSTERY PARK PROJECT—”

“Dear, your blood pressure,” Émile reminded gently. 

“And you didn’t even CALL US! I THOUGHT YOUR PLANE COULD HAVE CRASHED AND YOU DIED AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN CALL.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Darcy said. He really was sorry. He had thought Bingley had informed all the higher-ups about the extended project already. He told his uncles this, but they seemed unimpressed.

“Hmph,” Roger grumbled, crossing his arms, “Well, Mr Bingley may have, but if he did, they sure didn’t tell us.”

Émile cut in softly, covering his mouth, “Oh! I heard Kathy got a call from southern California— I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection. I could have saved us a lot of worry.”

Roger flicked his husband’s shoulder, glowering. “DARLING NO, don’t blame yourself! We’ve talked about that! If that’s true then it’s Kathy’s fault.” He turned back to the screen. “William, you remember Kathy, right? Five foot nothing, built like a river barge, wears pearls on every appendage?”

Darcy tried to think.  _ Were they talking about Katherine..?  _

“And she’s a bitch,” Émile added helpfully.

Darcy, finally realizing who they were discussing, laughed out loud. The noise startled both his uncles, and they looked to each other, in varying degrees of disbelief. Darcy didn’t notice.

“That,” Darcy said, still chuckling, “would be Mrs Katherine deBourgh. She’s the newly appointed supervisor of the Pridjice Branch.”

“Ohhh, no!” Émile gasped in sympathy. His husband banged a fist on the chair. 

“S’okay,” Darcy smiled, “She’s not around much. I don’t think she ever checks in on us— can’t bother to come to backwater towns like Haertford.”

Uncle Roger looked like he was about to say something, but Émile silenced him with a loaded look before turning back to the camera, smiling. “Well, we’re very happy for you. I know that she can be.. difficult, sometimes.”

Both Roger and Darcy snorted, and poor Émile looked torn about who to scold. “Well,” he said, regaining his serene composure, “We’re glad you’re okay. Now, Roger dear has some..  _ business _ to attend to, but if you’re not too busy, William, may have a word with you please?”

Darcy nodded and watched as Roger grumpily kissed his husband’s temple and left the frame. Once he was gone, Darcy began to get a little uncomfortable. His remaining uncle had sat forward, and was now watching him with an intent expression.

“Yes?” Darcy asked gruffly, suddenly on his guard.

“Nephew, I would like you to be honest with me.”

Darcy nodded. It was unlike Uncle Émile to be distrusting in any way— usually, if anything, he was  _ too _ trusting. Darcy wondered what had happened to warrant this kind of discretion.

“William, it’s unlike you to neglect anything work-related. What..  _ exactly  _ have you been up to in Haertford?”

Darcy tried not to look like he gulped. Really, the only reason he had been neglecting his work was because.. well, he had been distracted by...

“No one!” He said, hurriedly. Then his eyes bugged, and he reddened, realizing his mistake. “I mean, nothing! I- I’ve been.. up to… uhm, nothing.”

Émile sat back and rubbed his graying stubble thoughtfully. His eyes never left Darcy’s face, and although the younger man couldn’t be sure, he got the feeling his uncle was trying not to smile.

“So, you’ve been up to nothing.”

“Yes,” Darcy said, donning an air of indifference, “Nothing.”

“And..  _ who  _ have you been doing nothing with?” Émile asked, his quiet amusement bleeding through into a light chuckle.

Darcy groaned and sat back. His uncles Matlock and their son, Fitz, were his closest family. He had been told he took after them both, but he was only related by blood to Roger. Despite this, Uncle Émile had an uncanny ability to read his younger nephew, and right then, he could discern (though he had never seen William this way before) that the young man was desperately, hopelessly smitten. Even if William didn’t know it himself, it was written on his face— which was smiling and blushing far too often to be normal.

“So,” he asked, casually, “who’s the lucky person? I must meet them— make sure they’re good enough for my nephew.”

“Lucky woman,” Darcy corrected, shaking his head, “I’m  _ still _ straight, Uncle.”

His Uncle sighed heavily, then laughed at the running joke. “But please,” he said, undeterred, “tell me about her.”

Darcy rubbed the back of his head, uncomfortable. “We’re just friends, Émile.”

“Mm.”

“And she JUST wants to be friends.”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing more to it.”

“Mmmm.”

A pause, in which both parties were wondering how long it would take to break William’s private resolve.

“....but she’s beautiful and clever and not like anyone I’ve ever met, Uncle!” Darcy cried, after not too long of a pause. “She’s talented and funny and makes me feel.. at home, wherever I am! She.. I- I went to a PARTY for her. And I ENJOYED IT.”

Émile laughed. His nephew was so distressed at his own happiness. “Must be a very special lady,” Émile teased gently, “What’s her name?”

“Lizzy,” Darcy answered, his face suddenly smoothing into a sideways smile, “But her real name is Elize. She just likes Lizzy.”

“She sounds nice,” the uncle said, carefully. He could sense something was bothering his nephew— he could see it in the way the wistful smile slid off his face, and his hands fidgeted with the cufflinks.

“But…” he prompted.

“But,” Darcy replied, “She’s.. not… from our social circle. She’s in her last year of college, and works at a  _ convenience store.  _ Her— Her family is  _ horrid!” _

“Oh, William.”

“No, I’m right! The younger daughters aren’t even 18 yet, I don’t think, and they’re already drinking and flirting with almost every man they see—”

“That just means they have spirit! See, William—”

“And the FATHER! He threatened to castrate me if I even  _ touched _ his daughter!”

“Oh ho ho, did he now? Good man, he’s probably just protective—”

“AND THE MOTHER! She is SO abrasive! I could barely spend 5 minutes with her! And she barely speaks English— not because she can’t, she just won’t take the trouble— and they are poor! Lower middle class, at BEST.”

“William, don’t be a snob,” Émile chided.

He rolled his eyes. “I get that, but honestly, you have to agree, we DO NOT run in the same circles.”

Émile paused. The silence was long enough that Darcy started to get uncomfortable. Eventually, the Uncle said, “You know, if I were there with you right now, you would get a smack over the head for being such a classist pig.”

Darcy looked down, feeling the shame of his words as soon as they left his mouth. “I know.”

“I wouldn’t hold back either.”

“I know, Uncle. I’m sorry. That was wrong of me to say.”

“Damn right,” Émile said, mildly. “Now, do you love this girl?”

Darcy’s face, which had been regaining some of his usual paleness, darkened into a scarlet sunset once more. “Uhum,” he stammered, “Wh- what?”

“Pardon me,” his uncle said with a private eye roll (these younger generations— they were so sensitive with THAT four letter word), “Do you LIKE her?”

“Yes.. Yes, I like her a lot.”

“Well then,” Émile said, sitting back, with a slow nod and a slower smile. “Her family and situation shouldn’t be a problem then.”

“But—”

Émile held up a hand, stalling his nephew’s protests. “I saw your face when you said her name, William. And you laughed.. I haven’t heard you laugh in months. This girl, she seems to bring out the best in you.”

Darcy smiled ruefully, not sure what to say.

“Nephew, a word of advice.” Émile’s light gray eyes penetrated the younger man, even through the screen. “Listen to me. If this girl makes you this happy— hold onto her. Okay? I have a feeling you love her— oh, pardon. LIKE HER more than you’re letting on.”

Again, just a nod for an answer. It seemed to satisfy the older man, who smiled in return.

“This was nice. I enjoy talking to you, William.”

“Likewise, Émile.”

“Now, be sure to get your work done! I know that this lady of yours is a special one, but if you miss one more board meeting, your Uncle will blow a gasket!” Émile joked. He grinned and waved a finger at his nephew. “Get a hold of your priorities, young man. Whatever they may be.”

“Alright, uncle. Bye.”

“Adieu, have a nice day, William!”

“You too.”

They hung up, and Darcy was left in the room, contemplating.

Why had his uncle assumed he was in… he was in lo... Why had he thought that he felt that way about Lizzy? A crush shouldn’t be that obvious— should it? But his Uncle Émile was a hopeless romantic. He.. he was probably just seeing things. Yeah. Lizzy and he were just friends! Nothing more.

_ He really needed to start believing that. _

Surveying his calendar, Darcy nearly choked when he finally realized just how behind he was. He had been distracted— his uncles had been right about that! He was behind in everything! Emails, meetings, return calls, contract negotiations… Darcy was up to his neck in work!

_ Alright, that’s it,  _ he told himself.  _ Time to get your priorities straight. _

He was swimming in responsibilities; drowning in them. He had brushed them off like they were nothing, like this was some vacation or a romantic comedy where the real world didn’t exist. For the first time, he almost  _ (almost)  _ wished he had never met Lizzy Bennít.

**_You don’t have time to be in love._ ** _ You have work to do. _

With a sigh, he turned to his desk, and began his burden.


	24. Powerless to Stop It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy tries to keep his reason about him. I decided to get a little creative with the start of the Netherfield arc— mild angst. GET READY. Will post soon :)

Darcy made good progress on his work. Slow, mind numbing progress, but it was good! He emailed back some executives, called a fellow lawyer for a second opinion, and rescheduled some meetings. It was productive! He got things done!...

_ ….oh, who was he kidding, he was  _ **_miserably_ ** _ bored.  _ And every time he so much as looked out the window, he berated himself for being lazy and worthless. He could tell he was going into an unhealthy anxiety spiral, but he felt powerless to stop it.  _ But what could he do? Stop working and prove that he WAS lazy and worthless? _

Finally, after about 3 hours, Darcy allowed himself a break. The skin under his eyes felt tender and sore— he needed sleep. But the night was still young, and he heard voices outside his office door, so Darcy groaned, stretched, got up from his chair, and walked stiffly out into the hallway.

He was greeted by bright lights and animated voices— one more aggressive than the other.

“C’mon, it’s no big deal! Let’s just get it over with!” Bingley’s deepish voice was calling.

“Charles, you don’t understand!” His sister shrilled, “It could knock out ALL the power! We’re not electricians— ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN.” She (unironically) gasped, suddenly horrified. “WE COULD LOSE WIFI.”

A laugh. “Caro, it’s not like it’ll start a zombie apocalypse! It’s just switching the power grid on and off real quick— it’ll take less than a minute!”

The unmistakable soft voice of Rosa Jane piped up as Darcy neared the hallway’s corner. “Please, Ms Bingley, it’s procedure. It will do no harm.”

“YES!” Bingley enthused, “You see Caroline, it’s standard procedure. You won’t even noti—”

He stopped himself as Darcy rounded the corner and came upon the group, standing around a coffee table in what looked like a play area. A decorative rug with cartoon bunnies and the alphabet stretched across the floor. There were windows on one wall, showcasing the street lamps lighting up the early night. Bingley, Caroline, and Rosa Jane, were dawdling around an open panel with protruding wires, but all looked at him as he entered the open space. 

He cleared his throat. “Good evening. What.. what’s happening?”

“We have to test the power grid,” Bingley explained. “It’s been tested before, obviously, but we thou—”

“YOU thought,” Caroline muttered.

“WE thought,” he continued, “that it would be better to test the master switch, just to see how far the wiring extends through the property.”

Darcy furrowed his brow. “Um. Shouldn’t we wait until an electrician gets here?”

“That’s what I said!” Caroline crowed, causing Darcy to immediately regret his question.

Rosa Jane lifted her eyes shyly, then looked at the ground. “We could wait,” she said, her determined voice at a sharp contrast with her anxious stance, “but if we want to draw up plans for remodeling tonight, then we need to know how far the power extends out into the property.”

She glanced around, blushed, and hurriedly said, “But of course it would be safer to wait, yes, we should wait—”

“Nonsense!” Bingley called, putting a steadying hand on the young woman’s back (very forward, Darcy thought). “We should get it done ASAP. You were so excited to start the plans— no reason to put it off!”

Rosa Jane blushed again, and tried to reassure Bingley that it wasn’t important, that he shouldn’t do any electricity work himself, but (as Darcy knew) once Bingley was convinced doing this would make Rosa happy, nothing could dissuade him.

With a large grin on his face, Bingley walked to the panel and flicked off a switch; the room was plunged into darkness with the expediency of falling through a trapdoor.

Just as quickly, the lights flashed back on, blindingly brilliant, illuminating Caroline’s furious scowl. “Charles, we shouldn’t do this!”

“I told you, it’s FINE!” He slammed the switch back down, lightly pushing Caroline away so she wouldn’t turn the lights back on, again.

The room went black, then the lights came on again— the imprint of the room pressed in on Darcy’s retinas with uncomfortable clarity.

“What about the WiFi, Charles?!”

Bingley’s face was frustrated now, as he slammed off the lights again, shouting, “Would you stop being childish?!”

“I’m the one—!?”

“YES YOU ARE, WHAT YOU’RE DOING IS DANGEROUS!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE BEING—”

The lights were blasted on and off a few times, before Darcy realized Rosa Jane was no longer standing. He screamed out for the siblings to stop as he rushed over to her. He heard a fuse pop behind him, and the darkness continued now.

He pulled out his cell phone and turned on the flash. 

Rosa Jane, as the lights were flashing on and off over and over again, had begun to sway and stumble. Then, without warning, she dropped to the ground like a puppet with her strings cut. She was limp and twitching violently on the ground; her eyes jumping around with a frantic, petrified fear.

_ “Oh my god,”  _ Bingley screamed, clearing the room in a matter of seconds. 

“Don’t try and grab her” Darcy shouted into the darkness, “I think she’s having a seizure.”

_ “OH MY GOD,”  _ Bingley screamed, again. 

Darcy forced his friend away before he tried to do something reckless. Gina had taken first aid last winter, and Darcy remembered only a few select things. Mostly about CPR, and the heimlich maneuver, but he also recalled you were NOT supposed to hold people down when they seized. 

He removed his suit jacket and pulled Charles’ off him, and stuffed the under Rosa Jane’s head, making sure she wouldn’t hurt herself. 

“Call 9-1-1,” he yelled at Caroline, who (from what he could see in the dark room) was watching the scene with horror. 

Before Caroline could leave the room though, Rosa Jane came back to consciousness, and her limbs stopped writhing. “Wait,” she said, breathless and frightened, “Wait, don’t call 911.”

“Ma’am, you just had a seizure,” Darcy said as calmly as he could, “You need medical attention.”

“Wait,” she said again, “Please, I’m fine now. I-it’s nothing.”

Bingley’s face was shocked and ashen. He didn’t speak. He just gathered Rosa Jane up into his arms and rocked her side to side. He kissed her hair, his face blankly horrified. Rosa Jane didn’t struggle. She seemed dazed, but she melted into Bingley’s soft embrace.

Darcy nodded at Caroline, who quietly dialed. 

“I’m okay,” he heard Rosa Jane whisper to Bingley.

“Never again,” Bingley murmured back, still shell-shocked, “Don’t you  _ ever  _ do that to me again. I- I- I thought—”

“I know,” she murmured, burying her face in Bingley’s chest. “I’m okay now. It’s okay.”

Darcy wasn’t sure which one was comforting the other. The couple rocked back and forth, wrapped up in each other. 

Darcy, feeling odd and a bit like a third wheel, stood up, and shook out the adrenaline of his shaking hands. He walked over to Caroline, who was nodding to someone on the phone. She looked as tongue-tied as Darcy had ever seen her.

“Is the seizure over?” She asked Darcy in a low voice, covering the microphone. He nodded.

She relayed this information to the phone. Darcy looked on, hands in his pockets, wondering if his frightened rabbit-heartbeat was the only physical manifestation of his immense stress. Soon enough, Caroline hung up the phone, and turned to him with an unreadable expression. When she spoke, her speech was shaky and informal— a testament to her rattled nerves.

“They.. th-they said that unless she was still seizing, or lost consciousness, she would be fine. Especially if we were turning on and off a lot of lights. She.. She’ll be alright. They did recommend that we call her doctor, though. Make sure she has no.. um, underlying thingys.”

Darcy let out a long breath that may have been of relief. 

He looked over to where Rosa and Bingley were still entwined like the emotional scene in a rom-com. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness without his noticing; the individual shades of black on black in the room were now distinct and vibrant— and now Darcy could see, with absolute clarity, that their fooling around had caused all the lights of the building (and possibly the block) to go out.

Were they in a blackout? And all because of a brief moment of childish disagreement between siblings?  _ God,  _ Darcy thought,  _ Bingley must be eating himself alive with guilt. _

Suddenly, that stray thought (or perhaps by natural inclination, having deliberately NOT thought about the subject for so long) caused Darcy to start, and remember Lizzy.  _ Oh no, Lizzy!  _

She loved her sister more than most siblings ever would (except himself and Gina, of course)— she would want to know what had happened. Darcy wanted to hesitate, wanted to stall himself from hearing her voice and falling back into his patterns of lovesick neglectfulness.

But he couldn’t.

It was like a gravitational pull; his finger lured out her contact from his phone with ease, without a thought, and then he was listening to it ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lizzy, it’s me. I’m at the Playpen. Um, your sister just.. she— she had a seizure. She’s okay now, but she passed out and we—”

Lizzy didn’t even hesitate. _“Will, take care of her._ I’ll be right there. 4 minutes, tops.”

The line went dead, and Darcy was left in the pitch black room, questioning why— despite all his mantras and instincts and reasoning— his treacherous heart still beat a little faster when she said his name. Why just hearing her voice conjured feelings he had never known before. Ones that he couldn’t control.

It was almost poetic, that in the middle of a blackout, was when William Darcy felt the most powerless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall! I got a comment (or maybe a few) about one of the characters’ behavior being childish. And, at first, yknow, I was mad bc I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. But then I reread my work, realized it was pretty juvenile, and decided HELL WHY NOT! ROLL WITH IT.   
> So, without further ado, one of the themes of of the Netherfield Arc is gonna be ‘age-appropriate behavior: consequences and amneities’. So please understand, if the characters going forward seem childish, I WILL CORRECT THEIR BEHAVIOR LATER ON, I MEAN TO DO THIS ITS A PLOT DEVICE. Hopefully they won’t be annoying tho (please tell me if they are) :P  
> Love yall. ~Vinny 🌺


	25. Distance of the Night - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy arrives at Netherfield. She comforts Rosa, and explains a bit to Bingley, who has the most wonderful idea about what to do. Darcy observes all of this from a safe distance. Kind of just a setting-up chapter. Will post again soon (hopefully lol)!
> 
> Also, I know I don’t say this enough, but thank you for reading. I love each and every comment I get— y’all are half the reason I do this (the other Half being I just love to write). Anyway, thanks again, stay safe y’all! ❤️🌼 ~Vinny

It actually didn’t take four minutes for Lizzy to get there. It took 3 minutes and 42 seconds— that was when Lizzy’s messy curls burst through the playpen doors, bouncing with a kind of neurotic energy about them. Not that Darcy had been watching. Or counting, for that matter. 

“How is my sister?” Lizzy demanded. Her voice was breathless, her face was flushed with exertion, and her green eyes were as bright as dying stars.

“She’s upstairs,” Darcy said, hardly hearing his voice. His mouth was dry. He couldn’t seem to stop staring. She was a vision.

The vision flashed him a brief and quizzical grin— then sprinted up the Playpen stairwell with astounding speed. Darcy had no choice but to follow, keeping his eyes resolutely on the stairs beneath his feet (he had, without meaning to, already registered that Lizzy’s jeans were skin tight— and he really didn’t think he should be focusing on that right now).

She burst into the second-floor open area, crying out to her sister. “Rosie!”

“Liz!” Rosa Jane cried back, untangling herself from Bingley to embrace her sister. “Lizzy, oh Lizzy, you— you needn’t have come,” she insisted, tearfully, “I— I’m fine, really.”

“Rosie,” Lizzy said, a little choked up herself, “You sweet, sweet liar. Of course I had to come. I had to make sure you were okay.”

Lizzy, still not letting go of her sister, maneuvered her head around to peer at Bingley. “What happened? Do you know what triggered it?”

“We were turning the power off and on to test it and then it kept going and she collapsed and started seizing,” Bingley babbled, his grey-blue eyes terrified. “I’ve never seen— has this happened before? Will she be okay? Please,  _ please tell me she’ll be okay.” _

“She will,” Lizzy affirmed, “She just needs to take it easy for a while.” She turned to her sister, murmuring gently. “Do you want to tell him or should I?”

“You can,” Rosa murmured back. Lizzy nodded, and turned back to Bingley.

“Rosa’s had a few seizures. Enough so that we think she may have mild epilepsy. It used to be really bad when we were younger— she had to take Anti-Epileptic Drugs to keep it under wraps. It started to lessen as we got older though. We think it may have been from the time she fell off the roof when we were six— they started right after that. Anyway, Rosa usually gets them from stress, but even then it’s super mild. Usually she just gets dizzy or a little faint; the seizures really only happened when we were younger. She hasn’t had one since— what was it, Rosa J?”

“The school play,” her sister answered, giggling wetly, “I think I gave the director a heart attack.”

Lizzy chuckled. “Yeah, she pretty much scared the living daylights out of the whole seventh grade. But that was just because she was so stressed about the play and finals— we try to avoid stressing her out too much, now.”

Lizzy paused, and tilted her chin. “It’s weird that this one was brought on by flashing lights. Usually photosensitivity isn’t a part of the deal. If she was— well, Mamá would never have pushed her into modeling. We’re all super protective of her.”

“You did modeling?” Bingley asked.

Rosa Jane blushed. “A bit.”

“Oh she was GOOD,” her sister bragged, grinning hugely and poking Rosa in the side, “They wanted to get her an agent and sign all these contracts with some magazines and—”

“Alright, Lizzy, thank you,” Rosa Jane said, squirming away. 

“Well, anyway, it’s weird to me that she was triggered by flashing lights this time. She would get all the paparazzi, back in the day.”

Rosa, looking uncomfortable with all the attention she was getting, got to her feet (wobbling a bit) and smiled at Bingley.”Thank you so much.. um, for your time, Charlie. But, ah, we really should b-be going…”

That seemed to snap Bingley back to the present. “Wait!” He cried. He clutched Rosa’s hand as if for dear life, his own eyes searching her doe-like brown ones.

“Please,” he whispered, “Please stay.”

“Oh, I- I don’t know..,” Rosa hesitated, biting worriedly at her thumbnail.

“Please, I want you here. I- I have to know you’ll be alright. I know it’s irrational, I know I’m moving WAY too fast, but please— stay the weekend with me. It’s the least I can do after… after causing you so much pain.”

Rosa Jane blushed hard and started to stammer. “I- I don’t— well, I mean—”

Bingley flushed bright red in the dark of the blackout. He rushed to correct his mistake, tripping over his words. “Nononono, no. I d-don’t mean we sleep together— ah, I mean, I would, um.. n-not be against it… NO, I— not because of, uh, obligation, or anything, y-you’re just…”

He stopped. Collected himself. Then he began again, his eyes scrunched tightly shut like a frightened schoolboy.

“What I mean to say, Rosa,” he said, his voice straining towards calm, “is that I… I really like you. And care about you. And I.. want to get to know you better. So… please. Please stay the weekend.”

Then, popping his eyes open and grinning unabashedly, as if he had just been struck by some fantastical idea, he added, “Actually, if it would make you more comfortable, we could have Darcy and Lizzy over too! It’ll be fun!”

“Um, Charles,” Caroline interjected for the first time, “I don’t know if we have enough guest rooms for…  _ everyone.” _

She glanced at Lizzy with an inscrutable and screw-up face. As if Lizzy was somewhere between a mangy wet dog that started rubbing itself on her furniture, or an ice cream sundae she had just ordered on a diet. Whatever compassion had accumulated from causing Rosa’s seizure had melted away once she learned it wasn’t  _ actually  _ a near-death experience. Caroline had melted back into her normal demeanor: unpleasantly snobbish.

Bingley had also recovered  _ his _ normal attitude: cheerfully oblivious. 

“That’s a great idea, Caroline! We can all stay at the Playpen over the weekend! It’s closed anyway, and there are plenty of cots and blankets, and sleeping bags back at the condo! It’ll be like a big slumber party— and we can all work on the Netherfield project during the day; it’ll be terribly convenient!”

“I can cook the means if it’ll help,” Lizzy offered, one side of her mouth twitching at Bingey’s enthusiasm (not that Darcy was looking at her mouth).

“YES, PERFECT!” Bingley turned to his friend, squinting through the darkness. “What about you, Darce? You in? I can’t tell if you’re scowling or not.”

Darcy was scowling, but he quickly schooled his features, hopefully before anyone else noticed. Without really thinking, he said, “Yeah, I’m in.” 

As soon as he said it, he winced. God, what had he just agreed to? Sleeping in cots with virtual strangers (well, not really strangers, but shut up this was an inner monologue, it wasn’t meant to be rational)! And, worse, spending the weekend with the one distraction he had been planning to avoid! The Netherfield property was big, but not so grand that he could properly avoid Lizzy to get work done. He wouldn’t mind bunking with Bingley— it would give them a chance to catch up— but with his sister was out of the question. She was psycho!— or at least, unpleasant to be around. Between all the avoiding and ignoring and trying to get Bingley to focus on something other than Rosa, he would have no energy left to work! 

But, he had already agreed. There would be no talking Bingley out of it now.

“Excellent!” His friend said. Even through the blackout, Darcy could tell he was beaming. “What about you, Rosa? Lizzy?”

“I’m in if Rosie is,” Lizzy said, smiling. 

Rosa tilted her head down, but her voice had a soft, smiling quality to it. “Okay.”

“Ohhh, this is going to be AWESOME!” Bingley enthused. “I’ll go grab us some flashlights or something. Ahhh, just like camping!”

Darcy had always hated camping.

The one thing he didn’t hate about this whole situation, actually, was that the blackout allowed his eyes to follow Lizzy around the room for as long as he wished, and no one would call him out on his selfish indulgence. He would have to start ignoring her soon enough. 

But, for now, he could still watch— he just needed to keep his distance.


	26. Distance of the Night - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy tries to ignore Lizzy. It.. well, it doesn’t go so well. Somewhat unreliable narrator. Fun! New dimension to Caroline— will come into play later (lol I’m just honestly effing around with the plot at this point, and its making it so much better)  
> Anyway, enjoy! 💕

William Darcy was a master at avoiding people. He had been doing it since he could remember— partially at parties, but anywhere would do, really. He still remembered tricks that he used in middle school: spill something on yourself and go ‘clean up,’ forget your coat, keep headphones on so people don’t talk to you, say you have some work to do in another room. Simple things, really. 

He was also a pro at ignoring. World champion. He lived a very regulated, very controlled, life. Everybody knew this about him.

Everybody, it would seem, except Lizzy Bennít.

“So hey,” she said, walking up to him as he was very pointedly looked at his phone (looking very productive), “How’ve you been?”

That was  _ annoying _ of her. She had just seen him, what? That afternoon? 5 hours since she had.. had.. uh, kissed… kissed his hand.. 5 hours and forty-eight minutes… God, she was so clingy. Who even asks ‘how have you been’? Only distracting people, who distracted others from work with their.. their distractions. Yeah.

He hadn’t responded yet. Lizzy was looking at him expectantly. Darcy grunted, and shifted away from her. “Good,” he said.  _ ‘Go away,’  _ he meant.

“Good,” she echoed, a faint grin on her face as she raised her eyebrows. “That’s… good.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Lizzy lifted her eyebrows just a little more. “Alrighty then.”

She walked past him, and even though that was what Darcy had been aiming for, he couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit disappointed. Why hadn’t she tried harder to talk to him? Didn’t she like him at all?

Darcy mentally shook himself.  _ Why was he wasting all this time thinking about her. NO MORE!  _ And yet, somehow, despite eliminating his distraction, Darcy got even less work done, even when the power DID come back!

And what was arguably  **worse,** was that Lizzy started to  _ notice.  _ Darcy couldn’t think how— he had been as discreet as it gets.

As soon as he would see her in a room, he would leave without talking— no chance to accost him. At every conversation, he would opt out and go completely silent if she joined. And every time he stared at her, from across the room, without blinking, for uncomfortable amounts of time, he would always look away when her eyes landed on him— SO HOW DID SHE KNOW HE WAS AVOIDING HER?!

Then again, the Playpen wasn’t all that big, so it may have been just proximity. It seemed that every hallway had some person or another there— and Darcy didn’t really feel like talking to  _ anyone _ at this point, so it had become self-preservation to listen at corners to make sure nobody was in a room before he entered. This technique was how he (accidentally) overheard a conversation between Lizzy and Bingley’s dragon of a sister. 

“So.. you’re a… student, then?”

“Yes,” Lizzy’s amused voice intoned, “but I also work at a convenience store.”

“Ah. How quaint.” 

Darcy could practically hear Caroline wrinkling her nose. He knew, at this point, that he should have just walked away, but he was.. strangely eager to listen to Lizzy’s voice. Even if just for a second.

He peeked around the corner, and saw Caroline’s back, and Lizzy’s lightly freckled features facing his way. He ducked back behind the corner in time to hear Lizzy’s response, rather than see it.

“So, Caroline, what do you do then?”

“Oh I’m an influencer.”

Darcy was sure that if he could see Lizzy, she would be doing that adorable thing where she rolled her lips inward against a smile. Wait. NO! Not adorable— annoying! She was ANNOYING, and that was IT!... but he still leaned forward slightly; better to hear her response.

“I- Uh, how lovely. Instagram, or otherwise?”

“I use what’s available to me,” Caroline said, with the unmistakable sound of a hair flip, “But let’s cut the shit, Elize. Why are you here?”

“Um. Because.. your brother invited me?”

“No, why are you… with  _ him.” _

“Your brother?”

“No, sweetie, the  _ other _ him.”

“Ohhh.” A pause, weighted with recognition. “What?”

Caroline said something in a low voice, something that Darcy couldn’t make out even if he strained. 

Lizzy responded with, “But I thought you.. y’know… liked… um…”

“No… my only requirement...” Caroline whispered.

“Oh.  _ Oh.” _

“Yes.”

“So,” Lizzy said, faintly, “You’re offering…?”

“Yes.”

“N-now?”

A fabric-y sound; Darcy would guess it was a shrug. “It doesn’t  _ have _ to be now.”

“Look, Caroline…” Lizzy’s voice sounded strained and awkward. Darcy could imagine her rubbing her neck and wincing a little as she spoke. “I’m not.. looking for  _ that _ right now.”

“Not now then,” Caroline said. “But whenever you’re ready?”

“I’ll know where to find you,” she replied, weakly.

“Good.”

There was the sound of clicking heels on the ground, and Darcy just had time to duck into a shadowy alcove as Caroline Bingley passed him by, a smug look on her twisted-up coral lips. Darcy, feeling a bit like a fool (and a peeping Tom to boot), checked back around the corner. 

Lizzy was about a foot closer than where she’d been, and she was looking right at him. “Hi,” she said. One eyebrow was cocked, and her arms were folded as she grinned at him.

Darcy’s face flushed.  _ Okay, now he just felt like an idiot.  _ “Hello… um, what were you two talking about?” Darcy asked, before he could talk himself out of curiosity.

Lizzy’s lips curled into an ador— ANNOYING.. it was annoying.. smile. “Oh, I just think we may have Caroline Bingley all wrong,” she said cryptically. 

Darcy didn’t even need to ask. He just looked at her, and she smiled, and sat down at the kitchen counter. She motioned for him to sit on the stool beside her. He chose to stand.

“So, how well do you know Caroline?” She asked. There was a twinkle in her pale green eyes that Darcy was trying very hard to ignore.

He cleared his throat. “Um, I dunno. Almost as long as I’ve known Bingley, so… since college? Maybe a little later?”

“Well, I’ve only known her for about 20 minutes in total,” Lizzy grinned, “And I don’t know about you, but I pegged her as a massive bitch.”

If Darcy had been drinking a beverage, he would have spluttered it out and coughed. As it happened though, he just made a little choking sound, a bit in awe (if he was being honest) about how blunt Lizzy was with her character assessments.

She held up a hand to stop his response. “You don’t need to answer,” she said. “I can tell you think the same, but don’t want to be rude.”

That was… accurate. Darcy suddenly became very aware of how well Lizzy could read him; he wasn’t sure he liked it. Or the way she made him warm inside when she smiled like they had a secret to share.

She leaned in, and whispered. “Well, I think we both had her wrong.”

“How so?” Darcy asked, then cursed himself for speaking.

Lizzy’s eyes were the color of catnip.  _ “I think  _ Caroline is a  _ manipulative _ bitch, whose personality is NOT awful, she just changes it on whims!”

“Mm?” He murmured, hoping she would go on with him pretending to be disinterested. She did. 

“You know when she was talking with you at the banquet? And she was saying all that snobby stuff and sniffing like some high-society primrose?”

He did remember, but he didn’t say so.

“Well, when she talked to me, just now, she spoke like an ACTUAL HUMAN BEING. With FEELINGS. Albeit ones of blatant manipulation and pure sex drive, but still!”

“Blatant manipulation and what now?”

“Sex drive,” Lizzy grinned wickedly, “She was trying to get into my pants.”

She saw Darcy’s face, and misinterpreted his red-faced horror. “Oh no, don’t get me wrong! She’s very attractive— if I was looking for a no-strings relationship, and she didn’t have the personality of a boa constrictor, I might hit that!”

Darcy’s face was magenta. He felt… **so** stupid. _Why hadn’t she just told him she was a lesbian! He would have— He didn’t—_ “I didn’t know you were gay!” He blurted out, then had to physically restrain himself for clapping a hand over his traitorous mouth.

She grinned at him and stuck her tongue out. “That’s cuz I’m not, pea brain,” she said affectionately.

“Oh… wait, what?”

“I’m bi,” she stated, and he nodded (not in relief. Def.. definitely  _ not  _ in relief), “and I get why you didn’t know. BUT, our dear friend  _ Caroline  _ here picked up on it immediately.”

Darcy gave up trying not to speak. “I didn’t know she liked women,” he said. “I thought.. well, I kinda figured…,” he was already blushing, so why not go for it, he reasoned. “I kinda thought she was into me.”

“Yeah, well,” Lizzy chuckled, “I actually asked her about that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. She said— and this is a direct quote— my sexuality is money and tits.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, for lack of a better expression of surprise. “Wow.”

Lizzy laughed. “And, well, I guess I fit one of her criteria!” 

Darcy didn’t know how to ask her if she and Caroline were.. going to be… a thing. Thankfully, Lizzy, glancing up at his face, took pity on him.

“Eh, well,” she shrugged, “I’m not looking for purely physical. But it’s nice to be hit on every once in a while.”

Darcy dutifully bobbed his head, and wondered if it was too soon to leave the conversation. He didn’t want to think about ANYONE hitting on Elize— man or woman. It just— it— it didn’t feel right. Just… no. 

Lizzy was giving him a strange look. “Hey… are you okay?” She asked. Her hand grazed his forearm, and Darcy jumped back as if he had been shocked. 

“Yeah, I- I’m good!” He squeaked, before dropping his voice. “J-just tired, is all.”

“Oookay,” Lizzy drawled, looking at him again. Then she shrugged good naturedly and turned away. “Dinner’ll be soon. There’s a whole kitchen in the break room— or maybe it’s a cafeteria? I dunno, but either way, we’re having some good ol’ fashioned lasagna!”

She turned back to Darcy, grinning cheekily. “If you wouldn’t mind, keep Caroline occupied ‘til the salad’s ready? I don’t wanna get my bones jumped when I’m setting the table.” She winked, and Darcy’s heart just about stopped.

When it started again, it was working double over-time as Darcy fled the room without responding, his face scarlet, his palms sweaty, and the floor refusing to swallow him whole like he requested. 

He had never thought his own body would turn against him like this. He hadn’t even felt this during puberty! What on Earth was Lizzy Bennít doing to him?! And, more importantly, how could he stop it?

_ Distance,  _ Darcy schooled himself, as he put as much of it between himself and Lizzy was possible,  _ Distance is the key. _

If only he could retain his distance, all the way through the night. If only.


	27. Eye Contact is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is incredibly awkward. Lizzy confronts him in the kitchen. Get ready for the next chapter— I’m gonna have fun with that one ;) Enjoy!  
> (As a reminder, translations are posted at the end!)

The furniture at the Playpen wasn’t terribly sophisticated. Built for children, it was often padded or made of foam, with large alphabetic designs, or maybe some farm animals. The table in front for them, for instance, was round and blue, with a sun in the middle that had suspiciously good teeth displayed in an open-mouthed grin. This horror of children’s art was (thankfully) covered by a large tablecloth Rosa Jane had found in some closet. Or maybe it was a curtain. Either way, it was a cheerful beige color with sewed-on gold trim, which Darcy was picking at meticulously.

As you can probably tell, he had been staring intently at the table cloth for one time, absentmindedly cataloguing its details. Darcy was, at that moment, focusing on everything in the room except making eye contact. He could have probably calculated the ratio and decibel level of everyone’s chewing, had it not been for the one outlier. The one person who was  _ not  _ hell-bent on awkward silence.

“...so Maria turned to me all confused, asking me,  _ ‘Did we hit something?’ _ ”

Darcy wished he had the courage to look up as she told the story. But he could hear the smile in her tone; if he saw her smile like that again, his resolve would melt like butter in the California sun.

He kept his eyes on the tablecloth.

“So I said,” Lizzy was saying, fairly choking on her excitement,  _ “Back up the car and let’s find out!” _

She laughed. She was the only one. Bingley and Rosa Jane smiled politely, but it was clear neither had a clue what was going on. Caroline was covering a snicker, but not at the joke. Darcy was still preoccupied with the tablecloth.

“Still,” Lizzy added after a moment of silence, “I did always feel bad for that family. I mean— it’s not their fault they couldn’t train a feral cat not to run in the road.”

“Cats always make me sneeze,” Rosa offered thoughtfully, “I don’t like them very much.”

“Oh, I don’t either,” Bingley agreed. “We used to have a cat back when I was a teen— it would always scratch my arms and face. Cats are the worst.”

“But kittens are very cute,” Rosa ammended, smiling softly, “Their little fuzzy noses and soft little ears and big trusting eyes..”

“I know right!” Bingley exclaimed, nodding like a bobble head. “They are just so sweet. Kittens are the best!”

“Ese hombre está azotado como crema para ti,” Lizzy murmured mischievously, nudging her sister.

Rosa Jane turned bright red and said out of the side of her mouth, “Please, shut up Liz.”

“Era broma,” she said quietly, holding up her hands, “Pero sabes tú estas de acuerdo conmigo, hermana.”

“¡Para! A-and no Spanish at the table!” She hissed back, squirming.

“Okay, I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” Lizzy relented, before turning her attention back to the rest of the table (all of whom were looking very hard as if they weren’t dying of curiosity to know what was said.

“So, um, how’s everyone liking the food?” Lizzy asked, her smile turning a bit nervous as the silence persisted.

“Oh it’s wonderful!” Bingley enthused (really just happy to be part of the conversation again), “Top notch! One of the best I’ve ever had!”

Darcy snorted. Bingley was so in love it was making him inconsistent with his opinions. The lasagna was first class, he had to say, but had Rosa Jane said it wasn’t her taste, Bingley would have been spewing chunks across the table. 

“The best you’ve ever had?” He muttered to himself, moodily fingering his silverware, “I would as soon call Merriton a sophisticated metropolis.”

As soon as he said it, Darcy wished that his lips could be sewn together. The silence was  _ deafening.  _ He would have liked to say his brain was thinking of apologies and ways to remedy the situation, but truthfully all he was thinking was ‘shitshitshitshitSHOULDNOTHAVESAIDTHAT.’

Lizzy’s chair made a scraping sound as she pushed it out and stood up. He finally raised his eyes to find everyone avoiding his gaze awkwardly. “Well,” said Lizzy, her voice brittle with false cheer, “I think everyone’s done. Darcy?”

He flinched. Darcy’s sternum was starting to ache, just below his breastbone. It felt like guilt. He looked up, and Lizzy’s eyes were stormy, her smile hard and frightening. 

“Help me clean up, will you Darcy?” Her tone brooked no arguments.

Darcy swallowed the lump in his throat, and pushed back his chair. Bingley shook his head as he passed, muttering, “Not cool, man.”

He entered the kitchen/cafeteria-area to find Lizzy already starting the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the pan. Darcy was about to say something (he didn’t know what) when her stormy green eyes snapped up to him.

“Why are you being such a dick?”

“What?” Darcy asked, kicking at the floor tiles like a dejected preteen.

Lizzy set down her pan and glared at him. “You know what.”

He looked away, frustrated at himself. Lizzy started to tick things off on her fingers. “You barely even acknowledge I’m here, you suddenly clam up when I try and talk to you, actively avoid me, and then insult not only my hometown but also my cooking when I KNOW you cleaned your plate! So what gives!”

Looking into her eyes, finally meeting them, Darcy felt like the lowest pond scum on earth. What he was doing wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She may be a distraction, but that didn’t mean he should cut off all contact. He wasn’t even sure if he  _ could  _ do that, anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly.

Lizzy sighed heavily, and went back to scrubbing. “I know you are. But why?”

“I’m sorry because you’re my…,” he choked a little, “friend. And.. I was…. frustrated with work. I took it out on you.”

“Tell me about work,” she suggested, “What’s bugging you with it?”

Without really thinking about it, Darcy began to explain about the company. How big it was, how important it had been to his family. Soon their talk shifted to Darcy’s many responsibilities, how he felt like he was drowning in them.

“Wow,” Lizzy said, finally. “I had no idea.. it would be so… much.”

He shrugged. He had been sitting on the counter, avoiding the sudsy water Lizzy had spilled all over it. “It is what it is.”

“Dude, you need a vacation.”

He scoffed a laugh. She pointed at him, grinning a little. “I’m serious! Something to lighten your load! At the very least, get an assistant.”

“I may actually do that,” Darcy said, tapping his chin. “There are always a bunch of law students looking for an interning position like that.”

“You see!” Lizzy smiled, “It’s not all that bad.”

“Yeah,” he smiled back, “I guess it isn’t.”

Lizzy was easy to talk to. You wouldn’t know it, judging how she acted usually (wild and laughing and funny), but Darcy was finding out she could be serious when the need arose. She was a good friend. He had been  _ stupid _ to think he didn’t want her around.

“I think the others are turning on a movie,” said Lizzy, her voice snapping him back to the present. “Wanna go watch?”

“Depends,” he replied, smirking easily, “Did Rosa, Bingley, or Caroline pick?”

She laughed. “I’m pretty sure the first two are the same thing.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

“I think it’s some Sci-Fi thing though. Doesn’t look half bad.”

“Okay, if you want to,” Darcy shrugged. He liked hanging out with her. He didn’t have many friends. 

“Yeah, c’mon!” Lizzy laughed, putting away the sponge. “Before Charles makes us watch a rom-com just to get cozy with my sister!”

Darcy followed her, wrinkling his nose. “Thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” she quipped, grinning. He shook his head at her antics, but couldn’t quite shake his smile.  _ She was perfect. Just as a friend. Perfect. _

As they both situated themselves on the couch and the loveseat (respectively), Darcy thought about how easy it was to only think about her as a friend. After all, they were just hanging out; nothing special. It didn’t have to be awkward. Things wouldn’t be awkward.

Unfortunately, this resolve was a bit more difficult to keep, once the night grew long, and the sleeping situation was touched on for the first time. You would think, with all the amenities and finances of Austen at their fingertips, the group would have been able to procure one more bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROUGH TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> “That man is whipped like cream for you.”
> 
> “Please, shut up Liz.”
> 
> “It was a joke.., but you know you agree with me.”
> 
> “Stop! A-and no Spanish at the table!”


	28. Whispers, and Unsaid Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love the bed-sharing trope. But, this fic is my trope playground— I have to have EXTRA FUN. So, I put my own twist on it ;) hope y’all like  
> Very fluffy. All the mutual pining. Enjoy 💕

Charles Bingley was, generally speaking, a smart man. He didn’t like the word intelligent (it made him feel too pretentious), and he wasn’t adept at word problems. But he got by— made all As (and one B) in school! He was very good at matters of real estate, and was incredibly good at understanding emotion. Bingley was just.. a bit oblivious at times. Especially when there was a pretty face around— his brain just stopped working! And Rosa Jane was the prettiest face he’d seen in a long minute; it only makes sense that his brain would be a little bit less functional that was normal for him.

What didn’t make sense, however, was how a man as smart as Bingley could have only brought one cot and one sleeping bag, when there were FIVE people. 

During the movie, Caroline had retired and claimed the cot. Rosa Jane had fallen asleep curled up on the couch with her head in Bingley’s lap, and he had dropped off soon after. 

This left William Darcy and Lizzy Bennít standing in the semi-darkness, staring at the puffy sleeping bag and the stiff, solitary pillow.

“You take it.”

Darcy looked at her as if she was crazy. “What? No! You take it, I’ll just.. uh…”

“Sleep on the floor?” Lizzy finished, crossing her arms. “Nuh uh, I don’t think so. You’ve been stressed out lately, and you deserve some good sleep.”

“But you’re a guest!” Darcy argued.

“So what, so are you!”

They had a brief staring contest. Lizzy was firm in her gaze, though her mind wandered to how his eyes glittered like obsidian in the nighttime. Darcy was preoccupied with the way she was chewing at her bottom lip. Neither spoke for a while.

“Okay, we’re adults,” she said finally, “We can figure this out.”

“Right.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Correct.”

“We can just share.”

“Exac— wait, what?”

Lizzy’s face was turned away from him now. He would have liked to think she was blushing, but he really couldn’t tell. “We can share,” she said, lowering her voice a little. “It’s a big sleeping bag. Like, huge.”

“Ginormous,” Darcy said, dazedly. His brain was still stuck on ‘share’. 

“And it’s no big deal! We’ll both fall asleep quickly, and then we’ll wake up, and then it’ll be over!” Lizzy sounded like she was trying to convince someone, but Darcy hadn’t been arguing. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing too quickly. “We can share. The sleeping bag. No big deal. Yes.”

“Good.” 

She tucked a curl behind her ear. Darcy rubbed the back of his neck. They shuffled awkwardly toward the looming shape of the dreaded, the sacrosanct, sleeping bag.

Darcy unzipped it slowly, willing his hands not to shake. They were sweaty, and he couldn’t figure out why. Lizzy shifted her weight from foot to foot, and shot him a nervous kind of smile.

“You don’t snore do you?” She joked, clearly trying to defuse the tension.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“Me neither. Though I have been told I talk in my sleep.”

“You do?” Darcy asked. He had heard about people who did that before, but usually just in thriller novels, where the author needed a quick motive or a confession.

“Oh yeah,” Lizzy said lightly, “But it’s mostly nonsense. One time I repeated the word ‘Parakeet’ over and over until Rosa threw a pillow at me.”

“I.. can’t imagine her doing that.”

“Yeah, well,” she laughed a little, “it was 4am. I can’t blame her.”

“Well, um,” Darcy cleared his throat. He gestured to the open sleeping bag. “Ladies first?”

“Oh why thank you,” Lizzy demurred, grinning (though he could tell she was as uncomfortable as him. 

The sleeping bag was a large one— army issue, with extra layers— but the first thing Darcy was struck by was how small Lizzy was in comparison. She looked like a little mouse, all tucked up and shy. He just wanted to hold her close and protect her from the big world outside their little sleeping bag.

He blinked. He shook his head. Now, more than ever, was NOT the time for pseudo-romantic drivel.

Darcy slid in next to her. He tried not to touch her more than necessary; every time he did, there was a little electric shock of sensation. The one part he couldn’t avoid touching was her head— there was only one pillow. Her hair was soft against his shoulders, the curls brushing across his neck like fairy kisses. He could feel the solid shape of her skull against his, the tender overlap of skin as it pressed into him. The warmth that seemed to waft from her skin made Darcy think of dreams seeping into his skin; wonderful, fantastical dreams of beachside meadows filled with wildflowers, and lightning bugs, and endless sky. 

He wondered if she was thinking about him. 

“Hey,” she whispered, “You still awake?”

“Yes Lizzy,” he whispered back, trying to sound annoyed to mask the warm elation he felt ballooning in his chest, “I didn’t fall asleep in the last twenty seconds.”

“Ha, yeah, um…,” Lizzy chuckled stiffly. Darcy wondered why she sounded so nervous. “Well, uh, I kinda have to… takeoffmyjeans.”

“What?” Darcy had heard her. He was just a little… disconcerted.

“I need to take off my jeans,” Lizzy said, embarrassed, “And um, probably my bra too. They’re… y-you have no idea how uncomfortable women’s clothing is.”

“Right, yeah,” he replied dazedly, “um. Do.. uh, whatever you need to do.”

“..‘Kay.”

Darcy stared up at the ceiling. He was counting to ten in Latin. He was counting backwards now. He was NOT looking over as he heard a zipper finish and felt the woman next to him squirm in the sleeping bag, trying to maneuver without touching him. He was NOT focusing on how his face felt like it was on fire. 

And, most of all  _ HE WAS  _ **_NOT_ ** thinking about how Lizzy would be sleeping next to him all night, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and underwear.

He took the moment of awkwardness to pull off his own khakis. When in Rome.  _ …he could feel her bare leg brush against his. _

“Okay,” she whispered, “I’m done.”

“Me too,” he whispered back.

“Goodnight, Will.”

He smiled into the darkness. He loved how she said his name.

“Goodnight, Lizzy,” he murmured.

They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t talk. They didn’t talk about how she lived a block away— how they could have easily found some other bedding, and didn’t have to share. How there were so many solutions to this problem. How neither really wanted to solve it.

They didn’t talk about how it was a warm night. How there really was no need to stay this close to each other in the sleeping bag. No need for Darcy to slowly put his arm out of the bag, and for Lizzy to burrow into his side. They didn’t talk about how they fit perfectly, like puzzle pieces. 

They didn’t mention how Lizzy murmured into his chest, words that sounded like ‘pillow,’ ‘spearmint,’ and ‘safe’ and ‘Will.’ They didn’t mention, or really even notice, how Darcy’s lips brushed against her forehead, and he smoothed her hair back from her face.

How they both slept better than they had in years, cuddled in the darkness in the arms of a not-quite-stranger, on the floor of an unfamiliar building as the streetlamps glared outside, and the soft breathing lulled them into dreams they didn’t want to end.

There were a lot of things, a lot of things better left unsaid.


	29. Day (sadly) Slips By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy wakes up, and has to deal with her feelings. Darcy does it too, but with different results. A bit angsty, the next chapter will be more so. Switches POV at the end.  
> Don’t stress TOO much tho yall, I have some sweet fluffy times planned too ;)

Lizzy Bennít, when she was able, preferred to sleep in. Unfortunately, she was of a disposition where when the sun came up, her body was up. She really liked it better when she was unconscious at the Playpen. Where she wasn’t even  _ aware  _ that she had been sleeping in her friend’s arms all night— when all she knew was that she was warm and safe and blissful. 

Even when she did wake up, it was scary to her that she wasn’t scared. She was snuggled up to some  _ man,  _ and his arms were caging her in as they pressed together. But this wasn’t some man. This was Will. Sweet, awkward, sarcastic,  _ confusing _ Will. Will who she definitely liked more than a friend, who didn’t reciprocate. 

Who, by that way of logic, is someone she should have NOT pressured into sharing a sleeping bag with. 

The night was warm, and, cuddled together indoors in a sleeping bag in the middle of Southern California summer, Lizzy was well aware of the fact. Her skin felt slick and gross, her hair was a tangled mess— made all the worse because one of Will’s hands was buried hopelessly beneath the curls. 

Lizzy needed to get up, get off of her friend, and take a shower. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her breakfast was also on the agenda. 

As slowly as she could (partially because she was reluctant to leave the warm safety of Will’s arms, and partially because she didn’t want to wake him) Lizzy pulled herself up, inch by inch. Her cheek made a sticky Velcro sound as she lifted it from Will’s chest. Propping herself up on one elbow, Lizzy surveyed the sleeping bag. She could feel one of her legs slung over Will’s hips, the other resting somewhere warm and solitary.

Lizzy reached over top of her bedmate and slowly undid the zipper.  _ Nearly there.  _ Ever so slowly, Lizzy clambered over Will, just a few inches away from straddling him, and began to push off of the ground to land on his other side. 

One eyelid twitched. Will made an adorable sleepy moan, pawing the spot where Lizzy had been. She smiled a little.  _ God. _ If only they were together— she could kiss the half-awake frown from his face, and he would wrap her up in his arms and cuddle her, just for a little while longer.  _ But that would never happen.  _ She had to remember that.

As Lizzy shoved down her disappointment and started to ease her weight off of Will, his eyes opened, and focused. Lizzy caught them widen, his face turned scarlet, and suddenly they slammed close again before she could turn and greet him. Lizzy watched as Will forced his face to relax and his breathing deepened again. There was a certain tension between his eyes, and Lizzy could feel his pulse speeding up. But he didn’t move. Not even one muscle.

He was pretending to be asleep. 

Lizzy would have smiled, had she not felt so crummy inside.  _ He really didn’t like her, except as a friend. And maybe not even that, really. _

Lizzy slid off of him and out of the sleeping bag. As soon as she was out, Will (still pretending to be asleep) made an  _ obviously _ fake murmuring sound and crossed his legs, turning his body away from her.

He didn’t even want to say good morning. 

Lizzy tried not to care. She really did. Lizzy held off on the shower (she didn’t have any clean clothes, but she did call Marie to swing some by), but she did towel herself off as best she could. She would at least look presentable. 

After that, Lizzy took off her socks (she had made the mistake of sleeping in them, and found a large sweatshirt slung over the back of a chair in the den. She shrugged.  _ Better than jeans.  _

Lizzy was on the short side, by any standards, but she was also petite; the man’s sweatshirt hung almost to her knees, protecting her modesty and then some. It would be a little embarrassing, but hopefully her actual clothes would arrive soon.

Lizzy’s hair was a tangled bed-head, of course, but there was nothing for it. She left Marie another message, and hoped she would bring a hairbrush. Lizzy found some toothpaste and scrubbed her teeth with her finger. 

When she emerged, no one else was awake— at least, none who were admitting it. Will’s legs were still crossed in an uncomfortable looking position, and his face was very concentrated on looking like he wasn’t concentrating. It gave Lizzy a little pang inside.  _ She would never wake up by his side, and have him happy to see her.  _

She breathed deeply, shook off her melancholy, and padded to the kitchen.

Cooking. Yes, cooking would help. It always did. The Playpen cafeteria wasn’t elaborate, but it would suit.

Lizzy turned on the stove and breathed in a sigh of relief as the warm air wafted up, smelling slightly of tomatoes.  _ In, and out. It would all be okay.  _

She found some eggs in the freezer, and cracked one open skillfully. Turning on the sink, she let the water run over the pan, washing away her worries. Afterwards, Lizzy found some bread, and set about making some French toast. There wasn’t any syrup in sight (which was a failing indeed), but she could always run down and grab some from the QuickaSnack. Lizzy hummed to herself, swirling around the kitchen, putting some ham on the skillet, since there was no bacon to be found. 

She sashayed softly over to the fridge and, finding some delicious looking blackberries, popped one in her mouth. Then she looked up and saw Will staring at her. 

Lizzy yelped, and almost dropped the carton. He rushed to pick up some of the scattered fruits, keeping his eyes uniformly on the ground.

“Well,” she said, breathlessly, attempting a smile, “Good morning, Sleepyhead.”

Will just looked at her. After a minute he said, “Do you and your sisters often get up this early?”

Lizzy glanced at the clock, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ummm, what do you mean? It’s almost nine.”

Will colored, and murmuring something like ‘yes, yes, of course.’ He cleared his throat. “So,” he started, “How are you?”

“Pretty good,” Lizzy replied hesitantly. “Slept good.”

“Great, that’s great,” Will mumbled. His face looked sunburned. 

“Hey.. are you alright?” 

He started. “What! Yes! I’m fine, just, um, need to take a shower, is all.”

“Okay,” Lizzy said faintly, “Bye.” But he was already rushing off and out of sight. 

Lizzy bit her lip again, and swiped at her eyes. He couldn’t even  _ look at her.  _ He probably took one look at her disgustingly matted hair and dirty clothes and thought,  _ wow, I slept next to THAT?  _

She didn’t like to admit it, but her confidence was bruised by Will’s dismissal. She shouldn’t care what he thought! She shouldn’t! But still. Lizzy felt about as attractive as a toadstool.

Little did she know, William Darcy was at that moment suffering through one of the coldest showers of his life. Waking up, with the most gorgeous woman he had ever met on top of him, had been more than he could take. He hadn’t known how long he was forced to stay in that idiotic sleeping bag until he claimed down enough to be seen, but it was a while. 

And then, just when he walked into the kitchen for some toast, he saw her again. Looking sweet and rumpled  _ unbelievably  _ sexy, calling him Sleepyhead and nibbling at her bottom lip, blushing and wearing his clothes… it was too much. She was too lovely. Too tempting. He had to control himself. He  _ had to.  _ For her sake.

So, at breakfast, Darcy shoveled in as much of that delectable French toast as he could, then excused himself to go for a jog. He tried to ignore Lizzy’s forlorn look as he walked out the door. This was for her own good. He couldn’t control himself around her. They needed some distance, if they wanted to stay friends.

Later in the day, one of Lizzy’s sisters, Marie showed up with a bag of clean clothes and some toiletries. Lizzy looked like she was about to sing hallelujah, until the other Benníts walked through the door. 

They came under the pretense of making sure Rosa Jane was okay (she was), but Darcy got the feeling they were just there for matchmaking, and, possibly, to be the bane of his existence. He couldn’t control the disgust written on his face as Mrs Bennít crowed about her daughter’s rich boyfriend. You didn’t need to speak Spanish to know she wasn’t being polite. It was broadcasting on the way Lizzy looked shamefaced and mortified whenever her mother opened her mouth.

Darcy wanted to comfort her. He wanted to take her hand, and tell her it was okay, that he had embarrassing relatives too. That it wasn’t her fault.

He didn’t. He just sat there. Yearning. Like a  _ loser.  _

It was probably for the best he didn’t see her much that day. Darcy was far too involved in his own head, daydreaming about what would happen that night. He was so consumed with this train of thought, that when Bingley suggested they all play Twister later, Darcy’s mind immediately went to an image of Elize, pinned beneath him, his hands on hers, that shy smile gracing her lips as she watched him from under her eyelashes. Her eyes would blink like jewels. Her lips would taste like cherries. Her skin under his would radiate heat, and she would press her tongue to that sensitive spot under his jaw, tasting his sweat and—

Darcy declined the game, and excused himself from the party for a half hour.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed when Lizzy announced she was going out with a friend. Darcy couldn’t help but worry about her, staying out so late at night. He paced around the Playpen agitatedly. It didn’t really matter. 

He didn’t know what he was feeling, but there was a lot of it.

She wasn’t there to make them dinner. They ordered pizza. It tasted bland without her smile. Darcy was beginning to regret ignoring her all day. Was she mad at him? Probably. She had the right to be.

By 2am, Darcy was fed up with waiting. The sleeping bag was too cold without her. Darcy, disgusted with himself, walked out into the chilly night to find her. As much as he had hated his guilty pleasure in the morning, he loathed the empty satisfaction of his solitude.

He wondered if she was thinking about him.


	30. How to Pass the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look— I know I said THIS would be the chapter with the *spice*, but I have a feeling that angst is just gonna pop up randomly in my writing. Please note: I do not control the plot, the plot controls me, lol  
> Exposition of Lizzy’s night out. She meets a friend (that I’m sure none of us like). PLEASE pay attention and carefully read the description of the club; I worked really hard on it and am very proud. And as always, thanks for reading! ❤️

Elize Bennít liked to think of herself as a rational creature. Who didn’t, really? Granted, she didn’t always think things through all the way, but still— Lizzy prided herself on having a cleverness about her impulses that she trusted, without a doubt. Mostly. So, after having one of the worst days of her year (so far), Lizzy didn’t hesitate to accept Charlotte’s offer to go clubbing.

After the unpleasant surprise of Will’s sudden aloofness, her day had gotten steadily worse. For starters, Charles had said this would be a fun-sleepover-thing. It was supposed to be, y’know, an experience among  _ friends.  _ Instead of hanging out as a group though, Charles had stuck to Rosa Jane like a friendly thistle to cotton socks. It was.. revolting, how adorable they were.

So far, the only vaguely sleepover-y activity Charles had suggested was Twister. And after Will’s heightened color, not-so-subtle staring, horrified look, and abrupt exit, Lizzy found herself.. disinclined to agree. Will had done a perfect job non-verbally convincing Lizzy that it was a very good idea to not touch him any more than strictly, absolutely, necessary. He would always stiffen, mumble something, and flee the room.

He was probably disgusted by her.

Will hadn’t  _ avoided her,  _ like he had the first night at the Playpen. No, no. This was far worse.

He just… pretended she wasn’t there. Will would walk into a room and Lizzy could watch his dark eyes sweep over her with hardly a flicker of recognition. Like she didn’t even exist. He didn’t laugh at her jokes. He didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t even smile when they passed each other in the hall. With her, he only spoke when spoken to, and even then it was very little. For an entire half hour, they sat on the couch side by side, and not one word was spoken. 

It was driving Lizzy crazy; not only because she felt rejected (and the sting was brutal), but also because she felt like she.. had lost a friend.

There! She said it! Lizzy Bennít liked William Darcy, not only for his hotness, but for HIM. His stupid jokes, his secret smiles, his nervous ticks and his complex looks. Lizzy wanted to share those jokes, to earn those smiles, soothe his nerves and uncover his most complicated of ideas. She wanted to be the person he turned to, to be the one he leaned on. She wanted to be there for him. She had to remember to respect his boundaries.

Lizzy wanted them to be so much more than friends— but it seemed like he wasn’t even ready for  _ that.  _

Maybe he was better off without her.

Maybe  _ that _ was why she had said yes to ‘a wild night out’ with Charlotte. She couldn’t bear to see sweet Will forced to avoid her. 

Or maybe it was her mother’s visit that made her want to get wasted. Sra Bennít could drive even the most devout monks to drink. 

Still, Lizzy was a fair bit nervous, dawdling in front of the neon entrance. It was almost 11:00. She didn’t usually do this sort of thing.

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her fretful friend, smiling in a muted way. “Well I never! Who knew, Lizzy gets the jitters before goin’ to a club.”

“YOU knew that, you idiot,” Lizzy said fondly.

“I KNEW I knew that, you nerdlet.”

“Blockhead.”

“Smart aleck.”

“Party-girl.”

“Prude.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Liz.”

The two women looked at each other for a moment, giggling into the affectionate silence. 

“Okay, cool,” Lizzy said to her friend, already pushing open the door, “Ready?”

“Liz— wait.” Charlotte grabbed her wrist, stopping her from entering. Her dark brown eyes searched Lizzy’s face with pinched concern. “You’re really not gonna tell me what’s up?”

Lizzy shook her off, not unkindly. “I— not right now, Char,” she said in a soft voice, “Just— not now.”

Charlotte nodded, although her eyes reflected an uncertain shade of worry. 

Lizzy took a deep breath and shook out her shoulders. She pulled on the smile with all the ease of slipping on a backpack. “Enough with the serious! Are you ready to PARTAYYY?!?”

Charlotte laughed indulgently, and allowed Lizzy to drag her into the club. The somber mood was forgotten as they moved indoors, not to be recovered for the rest of the night. 

The place was packed— well, as packed as a nowhere town in California can be on a Saturday night. The music was pumped up loud, the base converting all heartbeats into one conjoined throbbing, overpowering individuals until there were all just another warm body pulsing among many. 

Glow sticks and light-up bracelets permeated the crowd, draped around heads and wrists— halos and shackles, shining like the moon, fading like a fever dream. The bright neon hues reflected and distorted among beacons of light shining forth from teeth and bright eyes, creating a lawless, shadowy scene that was as primordial as it was modernly based.

The noise of nothing and everything, the calm shrouding the storm, drained away all though from your head. There was nothing but you, and even that was lost in the soothing maelstrom.

Lizzy smiled. There was a certain tranquility, amidst the overstimulation. No time for thought. No times for doubts.

Only action would suffice.

She made her way to the bar, grinning for the first time in what felt like hours, Charlotte dutifully at her side.

When they reached it, Charlotte tried to wave the bartender over, but he was busy serving a young man Lizzy didn’t recognize. Eventually, Lizzy whistled loudly, calling out over the thrum of the base all around them, “Yo! What’s a girl gotta do to get a drink? C’mon man!”

The bartender glanced her way, and then went back to taking the stranger’s order. The man though, looked her way, did a quick once-over, and grinned. He turned to the bartender. 

“Um, I believe this  _ lovely _ young lady would like to be served.”

The bartender grunted with his unibrow lowered, but strode over to take their orders. After asking for a vodka martini for Charlotte and Jäger for herself, Lizzy turned to the young man and toasted him in thanks. To her surprise, he braved the din of the club and struck up a conversation.

“Hey girl,” he said with an easy grin, “You here alone?”

“Nah man,” Lizzy said. “Here with a friend.” She nodded to Charlotte, who waved, and sent a longing glance to the dance floor.

The man lifted his chin in greeting and took a swig of his beer. When the bottle came away, the grin was back. “Too bad,” he said coolly, “I woulda liked to keep you company.”

“You still can,” Lizzy said flirtatiously, flattered. “I’m not tied down.”

“Then I will, baby girl.” He affected a blush after issuing a debonair wink. “As long as I’m not bothering you, that is.”

“I said tied  _ down, _ not tied up.” She cocked her head to the side, as if considering. Then she smiled at him from under her lashes. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

The man laughed, head tilted back, eyes closed. Charlotte had moved away to the dance floor (after casting a knowing look at her friend), giving Lizzy the opportunity to study the man without witness.

He was handsome. Like, movie-star handsome. His jawline could cut steel, and she was willing to bet his biceps could end world hunger. His hair was a dark brown, maybe black, and the gel he had used to spike it glowed in the neon lights. His nose was slightly crooked; his grin more so. He wore jeans, a wrinkled red T, and a leather jacket.  _ Bad boy.  _ His complexion made Lizzy think white-passing, but not completely white. The exact coloring though was obscured by the overpowering glare of the club— it cast an emerald, almost toxic color over his face. When he opened his eyes, Lizzy found them to be a dark, twinkling moss green.

“I like you,” the man declared, “What’s your name, baby girl?”

“Lizzy,” she said, sticking out her hand. “And don’t call me baby girl, sweet cheeks.”

“Woah hey, feisty,” he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, growling a little. His eyes flashed with something beyond a smile.  _ “I like it.” _

Lizzy laughed, and released his hand. She took a sip of her Jäger, watching the man from over the top. “You know I’m NOT looking to sleep with you, right?”

The man tried on a pout. “Not even with no strings attached?”

_ “Especially _ with no strings attached.”

He snapped his fingers, chuckling. “Damn.”

“I AM still open to flirting though,” Lizzy added, as an afterthought. “And being a wingman. Or just a bar buddy. You seem like an okay dude.”

“I would hope so!” The man pointed to himself and smiled again, his teeth glowing the limelight. “Jorge Wickham.”

She nodded, and took another drink. 

“So,” Jorge asked, “What brings you here on this  _ fine _ evening?”

“Ah, nothin’ much,” she shrugged. “Relationship troubles.”

“Wait, I thought you said you were unattached?” He said, with more interest than remorse.

“I AM.” Lizzy pounded her fist into the bar, then winced. “Just.. I thought I had a chance with someone, but now…”

“...they blew you off,” Jorge supplied, nodding sagely. “Damn girl. That sucks.”

“Yeah, well,” Lizzy muttered, taking another drink.

“Seriously. The dude must be blind and deaf and probably has four teeth and smells bad. You’re better off alone.”

Lizzy laughed. “Thanks.”

“Hey, anytime.”

Lizzy looked at her bar-buddy sideways. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he finished off his beer and motioned for another to the bartender. She waited until his eyes were on her to ask her question.

“Soo… Jorge. What brings  _ you  _ to a place like this?”

He demurred, looking genuinely abashed for the first time in their brief acquaintance. “Ah, well, y’know…”

“Sex.”

“Yeah, just sex.”

Lizzy laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

Jorge shrugged good-naturedly, and soon they began to talk of other things. 


	31. Drinking > Feeling, as Lizzy So Discovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall! I split up the last chapter, so I’m posting this one now. Will get the the angst soon, and will post sooner, promise. Until then, enjoy the fun drunk dialogue :)
> 
> Also, disclaimer. I might TECHNICALLY need a trigger warning for how this story is progressing, but I don’t want to add it, really, because this story is huge and fluffy and its not really a large factor. But, just in case, HERE is the trigger warning for Implied Attempted Non-Con. You have been warned.  
> Also, fuck Wickham. 👿🤢  
> but enjoy the story, nevertheless

They— Lizzy and Jorge— didn’t talk of heavy things, mind you. THAT wasn’t proper bar-talk. Jorge told her so, and Lizzy agreed. 

They just.. talked about other stuff. Stupid stuff. Like Jorge learned that Lizzy was still in school and working at the QuickaSnack (she promised to hook him up with some free caffeine Every now and then) along with the fact she thought AC/DC was overrated and that she had thrown up at her Bat Mitzvah, Lizzy found out that Jorge was in Haertford for the summer with no real plans, he liked Indian food (the spicier the better), used to collect tropical fish, and could stomach enormous amounts of alcohol.

And Lizzy drank her share too. She normally didn’t— having researched brain studies about alcohol’s effects on young folk— but tonight she just wanted to let loose. She even played a private drinking game with herself! Every time her traitorous mind would conjure up William’s face (whatever the expression), she took a drink. She took two if she thought of him looking disapproving, four if he was kissing her.

Five hours later and Lizzy was well on her way to black-out drunk.

Jorge Wickham though (or Wick, as she had started calling him) had drunk at least twice her fill, and was still able to sing (read: yell) along to whatever song the DJ happened to be playing without slurring his words. That did not, however, make him anywhere near a good singer.

“God, you sound horrible,” Lizzy laughed. Her elbows were the only things keeping her from sliding off the bar, but she felt more relaxed than she had in ages. “Seriushly. Seerushly. Serusly. Whatever. You need vocal lessons!”

“I do not!” Wickham laughed back, “I sound wonderful, what are you talking about!”

Lizzy leaned forward and poked his nose. She counted that as an answer. 

Wickham looked like he was getting ready to poke or tickle or tease her (or something?) but Charlotte just HAD to show up. 

“Hey, bestie,” Charlotte said with a grin. She looked a little buzzed, but Lizzy was more concentrating on the man whose arm was currently around her best friend. 

“Meet Denny,” Charlotte introduced. 

“Hullo,” Denny said.

He had dirty blonde hair and a halo glow stick. He was smiling off to the side. Denny was tall. Not as tall as William.

Lizzy took a drink.

“Um, Liz, how much have you had?”

Charlotte’s voice was too quiet over the music, but Lizzy supposed she was probably yelling. She frowned in concentration.  _ How much had she had. _

“More than enough, pr’bly,” she answered with a sloppy grin. She patted Wickham’s shoulder. “I’ll ask our good buddy bartender for a water.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said distantly, “Do that.” She bit her lip, looking up at Denny, who had a similar worried expression. “Um, Liz? You need me to drive you home?”

Lizzy frowned. She didn’t like the worry lines on Charlotte’s forehead. There were too many of them. She waved off her friend’s request nonchalantly. “Nah, s’cool! I can walk.”

“I don’t think you can,” Charlotte said, again with the worry lines, as she glanced down to where Lizzy was wobbly maintaining a semblance of a stance.

Before Lizzy could open her mouth and say something she’d later regret, Wickham covered her hand on the bar and addressed Charlotte. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Charlotte’s thin eyes narrowed further, assessing Lizzy’s companion— clearly not liking what she found. She turned back to her friend with a petulant, but resigned, frown. “Oh...Kay.”

Lizzy smiled and nodded a few times; she hoped it looked reassuring. But by the time the Denny guy led Charlotte away and towards the door, Charlotte’s worry line’s had yet to abscond the perch. 

_ Perch. That was a funny word. Rhymed with lurch. And church, _ Lizzy supposed.  _ Search. Dirtch.. no, dirtch wasn’t a word. Neither was mirtch. Hm..  _ What else rhymed with… with.. what was the word again? 

_Will!_ Will would know. 

Oh, wait. Lizzy frowned at her newly procured water glass.  _ Hmph, can’t do a drinking game with plain ol’ water.  _ Ah well.

What was she doing again? OH RIGHT. Rhyming.  _ Timing, criming, miming, liming..  _ Lizzy giggled to herself. Oh yeah, she was also texting Will!

She smiled to herself, all thoughts of his recent coldness and distance forgotten. Will was nice. And kind and tall and strong and smelled good. All good qualities in a man. He was a good man.

And she was texting him! That was what she was doing! And rhyming, rhyming too. 

She pulled out her phone, and scrolled to contacts. She didn’t have a picture for Will. Shame.

_ ‘Hiya Will,’  _ Lizzy texted,  _ ‘Do u kno what rhymes?’ _

A second later, funny little dots appeared.  **‘? Elize, where are you?’**

_ ‘Thas not a answer,’  _ Lizzy typed out, smiling,  _ ‘im talkin ryhmes’ _

She added as an after thought:  _ ‘im a the bar’ _

**‘Alone?’** Was his immediate response.  **‘Are you drinking?’**

Lizzy frowned again and huffed. God. Typical Will.  _ Not _ a good man. He probably thought that because she didn’t have any friends, that she was ugly and stupid and no one liked her, just because he thought.. all those things. 

_ ‘Just bc u arent w me doesnt mean i alone. And yes am drinking dont be mean.’ _

And before those sneaky little dots could deliver another judgemental response about how awful and gross and unlovable she was, Lizzy sent,  _ ‘and Char was here to dont wory. She left tho. But i found a new friend ad don worry, he said he’ll take care. So yea’ _

Will’s response came quickly, with all the subtlety of a brick wall.  **‘Stay where you are. I’ll find you— just DON’T leave with some man you just met, Lizzy. Please.’**

Lizzy wanted to frown down at her phone again (it had become her go to response for Will now), but he used Please. So he couldn’t be all bad. Still, his arrival probably meant she would have to go soon.

She turned with a sigh to Wickham to inform him of her impending departure, and saw leaning over to drop a white little pill into her water. She blinked at him. “What’re ya doin?”

He started, but smiled. “Alka Seltzer,” he explained. “Supposed to sober you up a bit.”

“I don’t NEED sobering up,” Lizzy whined.

“You might not,” Wickham said with an easy smile, “but I do.” He popped a white tablet into his mouth, and his throat leaped with a swallowing motion.

“Now, ‘scuze me a sec,” he said, his cheeks a little puffed out, making his words blend together, “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Kay Wick,” Lizzy smiled, “See ya.”

He nodded a goodbye, got up from the bar, and disappeared into the slightly thinning crowd. He glanced back, smiled a little, and pantomimed drinking. Lizzy rolled her eyes, but dutifully took a long sip of her water. She smacked her lips, and peered at the cup. Huh. Alka seltzer tasted like nothing. She would have to ask Wickham about the brand he used later.

After a little over 20 minutes though, Wickham still wasn’t back at the bar. Lizzy could see him moving through the crowd, smiling, laughing, talking, dancing— all usually with women— and occasionally looking her way. Every time he did, he made a charming little wink that made Lizzy feel important. She liked it.

But he wasn’t boyfriend material, no, no, certainly not. He was too flirty. Too.. drink-y. Lizzy knew she was a hypocrite (currently being too drunk to even stand properly), but still, there it was. 

Besides, she didn’t like gelled back hair. She preferred curls.

Also, side note, Lizzy’s muscles seemed not to be working quite right. They were too flaccid, bouncing around on her bones without obeying her. She felt like she was nodding off, and her vision was crackling shadow around the edges, but she didn’t feel very sleepy.

She drank a little more water. She needed to sober up soon.

Just as Lizzy was wondering when or if Will would get here, or if she would have to walk home, he appeared on the side of the club. He was looking around for someone. For her.

Looking more worried than Charlotte ever had. Annoyingly so. Angrily so. Lizzy downed the rest of her water. This was going to be a  _ trying  _ conversation.


	32. Leaving Behind the Club, the Memories, and the Waking World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long, emotional rollercoaster of a chapter. Strap in. Please don’t hate me.  
> The next chapter is gonna be Darcy’s POV, and it MIGHT be even more angst. Fair warning.
> 
> This hurts me just as much as it hurts you :(

“Are you drunk?” Was Will’s first question.

Lizzy looked up, up, up at him. He was tall, she thought. Taller than her, though she was slumped against the bar, and so it really wasn’t an accurate comparison. But still, her mom used to say that she was a fairy child, because she was so small. Her father would call her an imp.

But Will hadn’t asked if she was an imp, he was asked.. if she was.. something. Something about height?

“I’m short,” Lizzy answered, confidently, taking a sip of water. The glass was empty. Darn.

Will nodded, the messy curls of his forehead lifting up then diving down with the motion of his head. “Okay, yup, okay,” he said, licking his lips. His tongue was very pink. “And.. where did you say your friend was?”

Lizzy peered at him through the neon gloom. “Char left with the Denny guy and I dunno where anyone else is.” She perked up a little. “Ooh! Can I say bye ‘fore we go?”

“Can you stand?” Will asked skeptically. One of his eyebrows was twitching upwards, like a faulty elevator on his forehead. Lizzy frowned up at the eyebrow. 

“Yes, I can,” she said, trying to sound more sober than she was, “I can walk just fine.”

Before Will could tell her how embarrassing and stupid and immature and ugly she was, Lizzy vaulted off the bar and filtered into the crowd. He called something after her, but Lizzy would not be the loser in this tag-game. She had to find Wickham and say goodbye before Will ruined all the fun and took her home and put her to bed and would they share a sleeping bag again? Hm.

Lizzy’s legs weren’t working. They were like crusty jelly, both wobbly and stiff. She doubted she would be able to stand, had it not been for the crush of bodies around her, keeping her stable. 

Will may have been following her, but Lizzy was looking for gel-hair, not curl-hair. She found Wickham near the center of the crowd, dancing with Mariah King. 

“Hey Wick!” Lizzy shouted, waving from less than a foot away. “Hey Mari!”

They turned to her. Mariah smiled— she was nice, for an ex-girlfriend. Wickham grinned bigger though, and gave her a quick once over.

“I can’t tell if you’re more sober or more drunk,” he quipped. 

Lizzy laughed, then stopped. “Dunno if we’ll EVER know,” she said, despondently, “I gotta go home.”

“Oh, hey, let me walk you home,” Wickham said gallantly, detaching herself from Mariah.

“Nononononononono NO,” Lizzy mumbled, pressing a finger to Wickham’s nice mouth. “I gotta go NOW. My friend is a DOWNER. He won’t like you, so you gotta be hidin. Hiden. Hide. You know what I mean.”

Mariah laughed. “Wow Lizzy, you really are hammered!”

She smiled at her old friend, but her attention was on Wickham, who looked disappointed. “So, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah, later,” she nodded a few times. “Drop by the store! We can catch up and eat donuts and it’ll be fun!”

“Okay,” he chuckled, steadying her a little with his arm. “And maybe go out again sometime?”

“Mayyybe,” Lizzy hummed, “But I don’t want relationship right now, Wick. Jus’ to be clear.”

His grin didn’t diminish, but his mossy eyes grew a little more serious. “Got it.”

“Ssseeeee you around!” Lizzy said, before turning back and stumbling through the crowd again. She saw Will standing there, arms crossed, by the bar. She made her way over to him.

“BYE LIZZY!” Wickham’s voice cut through the crowd.

“BYE, WICKHAM!” Lizzy yelled back. 

Then she sidled up to Will, acting like her legs weren’t about to give out under her. “Hiya friend-o,” she smiled. 

His face was red— and Lizzy wasn’t sure it was from the club lights. “Wickham,” he asked, his voice cutting through the air like a cleaver, “Your  _ friend  _ was Jorge WICKHAM?”

Lizzy, in her drunken state, hesitated. Will seemed upset. Was he mad at her? Mad at Wickham? Mad he wasn’t invited— what? Did she do something wrong or did he just not like Wickham. And he was looking at her— what should she say?

“No,” she tried.

Will’s face was impassive in the neon darkness. His brown eyes reflected purple flickers of concern, delving into frustration and fear.

“Stay away from Jorge Wickham,” his voice said, “He’s not your friend.”

“Psshhhh,” Lizzy scoffed, smiling, “He’s not my friend; he’s my bar buddy! Or was. Past tense. We’re leaving now. Right?”

She made her way to the door, pulling Will along so she could lean on him. His face was twisted up with emotion as he held her upright, and walked quickly to the door.

“Jorge Wickham is the kind of man that makes  _ friends  _ easily,” Will said, his teeth clenched as they reflected the light of the club, “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him  _ keep  _ friends very long.”

He turned to Lizzy, his eyes equal parts accusatory and frantic. “Wait, you didn’t let him near your drink, did you?”

Lizzy’s frown deepened. Will was being a.. he was overreacting. He probably didn’t even know Wickham! He hadn’t tried to put moves on her the rest of the night, after she said she wasn’t interested. He was flirty, but respectful. Will clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to pacify him.

“No,” Lizzy said, as solemnly as she could.

“Oh thank God,” Will breathed. Lizzy briefly felt bad about lying to him, but he was wrong about Jorge, and besides, Will immediately started berating her. Mean.

“You shouldn’t spend the night with guys you just met. You shouldn’t drink so much if you’re alone. You shouldn’t stay out so late.”

“You’re not my MOM,” Lizzy grumbled.

She wanted to move away from Will’s mean words, but her legs had followed through with their threat. They wouldn’t work— paralyzed.  _ Grrrr.  _ She really shouldn’t have drunk so much.  _ Why had she gone out tonight? Oh yeah! _

“This is all your fault,” Lizzy informed, glowering, her words only slurring a little. 

“My fault?” Will asked, mystified. “How is any of this my fault?”

They were almost to his car. Tesla. Because of course he was rich. Because why not. Will was pretty much carrying her at this point, and he opened the car door to usher her in. Lizzy waited until he had climbed in the driver’s seat to explain.

“You,” she said, “you made me need to go out.”

“Now how would I do that,” Will asked patiently, condescendingly. 

Lizzy glared at him, then relented. She looked down at her hands. “By making me sad,” she admitted.

She didn’t see Will’s face, but when he spoke his voice sounded strained. “I.. made you sad?”

“Yeah,” Lizzy murmured, “You were bein’ all nice and sweet, then started avoiding me. Like.. like you hated me. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t…”

She finally looked over at him, hating herself for having tears in her eyes. Will’s face was soft and delicate, eyes wide, open to the world. Half of his face was lit up by the green neon side outside the car. His pale skin looked so smooth. His lips were slightly parted.

Then Lizzy thought,  _ fuck it. _

She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled Will into her. Her lips collided with his mouth, and she kissed him with a sloppy desperation. She kissed him for.. she didn’t know how long. He was warm. His lips were soft. His face was smooth. She kissed him, and she loved it.

But he didn’t kiss her back.

Lizzy pulled away as soon as she noticed this. His face was stone still, staring at her. His lips were parted, his eyes open and twitching. He was shocked. Appalled. Disgusted. 

His expression sobered Lizzy up more than any Alka Seltzer. “I’m sorry,” Lizzy said, pressing the heels of her hands to her eye sockets. “I- I’m sorry.”

Will licked his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes were unblinking. “Elize… I- You’re… drunk. You’ll regret this in the morning.”

“Believe me,” Lizzy laughed bitterly, “I regret it NOW!”

Will’s face was understanding— not angry, not sad, just.. detached guilt. It broke her heart a little more with every second he didn’t say anything. He was too nice. She had hurt him.

“God.” Lizzy pressed a hand to her head, though even that movement was difficult. Her arms wanted to just stick by her sides. “I’ve ruined everything.”

Will finally found his tongue. “You haven’t ruined everything,” he said. “We can…,” he paused, looking like he was trying to stomach something unpleasant, “..still be friends.”

That was what did it. Lizzy started to cry.

She bit her lip until it hurt, but the tears slid past her defenses, dripping down her cheeks and off of her wobbling chin. She couldn’t even muster the strength to get out of the car. But she didn’t want Will to see her cry. She felt a hand on her shaking shoulder, and with some effort she looked into Will’s panicked face.

He was saying something. His mouth was moving. But all Lizzy could think about was how this was _ wrong,  _ how she had  _ ruined it,  _ how he would hate her, or worse,  _ pity her.  _

Will, with gentle force, pulled her into his arms. His hand cradled her head like her father used to do, and Lizzy cried harder. She was letting everyone down, down, down.

His hand was drawing circles on her back, his voice shushing her softly, and Lizzy realized she had been mumbling something. What had she said? Probably how much of a failure she was.

“You’re not a failure,” Will’s voice said, clearly. His breath tickled her ear. 

Lizzy felt a tear trace her jawline. She hiccuped. “Yes I am,” she whispered hoarsely. “I can’t even… I can’t…,” her voice broke.  _ She couldn’t even tell him how she felt. _

“I’m a mess,” she whispered. Her voice sounded broken; even to her.

She heard Will lick his lips. “Lizzy,” he said, “Lizzy, listen to me. Don’t say this about yourself. I… I’m so, so sorry for being.. for doing that to you. It was wrong, and petty of me. I know you must hate me right now..”

“..I don’t hate you…”

“..but please, Lizzy. Don’t blame yourself. You’re drunk. You’re exhausted. You.. It’s okay, if you do things you regret.”

Lizzy’s breathing had slowed. She was probably getting snot all over Will’s poor shirt. But she couldn’t lift her head. She couldn’t move.

“Will…,” she croaked. It scared her that she could barely move.

“Yeah?”

“I…” She faltered. She stopped. She closed her mouth. One, final, tear made its way down her cheek. She had so much to tell him, but so little she could say. He was better off not knowing. Better off never knowing that she cared about him, more than she cared about herself.

There weren’t enough words, not enough stars in the sky, to express the ache inside her chest.

Lizzy breathed in Will’s scent. He smelled like evergreen and woodsmoke and cologne. He smelled like home. 

_ She would never be this close to him again. _

Her heart broke a little more.

“Take me home, Will.”

And then Lizzy Bennít lost consciousness. She never did hear William Darcy whisper that he was sorry, over and over and over again— sorry that he was not enough, sorry that he didn’t want to be friends, sorry that he had left her all alone. She felt the salty wetness on her forehead from where his cheek was pressed. She never saw his eyes.

She never wanted this.

She just wanted to go home.


	33. Something like I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Darcy’s night. Heavy pining, pretty heavy angst.  
> It had to get worse before it gets better 💔

William Darcy didn’t know what heartbreak was supposed to feel like. When his parents died, he had felt despondent, lonely, almost resentful for them leaving him behind. His chest had ached and he had cried, but heartbreak was supposed to be more than that. It was supposed to be poetic. Something to remember.

Right now, the dull ache in his chest had grown into sharp, fleeting pains. Shards of hope, shattered with a kiss. If that wasn’t poetic, he didn’t know what was.

Lizzy— his bright, happy, intelligent Lizzy— had gotten drunk and cried in his arms. After kissing him, and then saying she regretted it. After staying out all night with Jorge  _ fucking _ Wickham.

Darcy didn’t know when he had started to cry. 

The tears had come as easily as air used to, before this wild woman took his breath away in a thousand different, little, insignificant ways. She talked in her sleep. She bit her lip when she was thinking hard, or when she got nervous. The tip of her nose got red when cried. 

As he had gathered her into his arms, after being the cause of so much pain— after being so  _ selfish  _ as to ignore her just for his own comfort— made him feel like the lowest amoeba on earth. And what was worse? He had  _ enjoyed it.  _

He had  _ enjoyed  _ rubbing Lizzy’s back as the sobbed quietly. Enjoyed how her nose fit like a jigsaw into the crook of his neck. Enjoyed how he could feel every shake and tremor of her fragile body as it was pressed against his. He liked being the one she turned to. The shoulder to cry on.

And yet he had been the one to  _ make her  _ cry.

He really was scum.

And now she was asleep, nodded off as Darcy fastened her seatbelt and tried to focus on the road ahead. It was hard, when Lizzy kept mumbling things he could  _ almost  _ understand. 

Understand. He didn’t understand anything, any more. 

_ What had he done wrong? What had he said? He couldn’t be close to Elize without pushing her boundaries, but keeping his distance hurt her even more. What could he do? What did he want? _

Darcy opened the car door after he sat in the street in front of the Playpen. He walked around the side, and opened Lizzy’s door. Her head was resting on the seatbelt. He unfastened it, and shook her shoulder as lightly as he could manage. 

“Lizzy,” he whispered, his voice halfway between hoarse and strained, “Lizzy, wake up. We gotta get inside.”

She didn’t answer. She was very still.

Darcy breathed out, steeled himself, and carefully lifted her out of the car. Lizzy was small, and fit almost perfectly in his arms. Darcy allowed himself to embrace her for a minute, quietly, his nose buried in the crook of her shoulder. Then he carried her the rest of the way inside.

The Playpen hallway was dark. He could hear soft breathing coming from the couch— it seemed Bingley and Rosa were once again sharing. Instead of returning to the normal sleeping bag though, Darcy hefted his precious cargo, grabbed the sleeping bag with two free fingers, and dragged it to his office. He drew the blinds. She was going to have a  _ monster  _ hangover when she woke up.

And Darcy wanted to do everything he could to make waking up as comfortable as possible for her. Carefully, he took Lizzy’s shoes off her dainty little feet, and untucked her shirt (he didn’t dare do any more, in case it would make her uncomfortable later on). Then he let her hair down, and, grabbing a warm washcloth from the bathroom, began to gently brush away the mascara stains. 

Her skin was so smooth. Her rubbed as softly as he could, not wanting to disturb her placid expression. Her eyelids didn’t even flutter, not once.

After that was done, Darcy allowed himself to change into soft pants and an undershirt. He stood over Lizzy, considering his options. She looked so peaceful laying asleep over top of the sleeping bag, her gorgeously rambunctious curls splayed out over the pillow.

Then Darcy decided to be selfish. Just this once.

He pulled Lizzy into the sleeping bag and slid in after her. Lizzy’s back was to him, and, ever so gently, Darcy reached out an arm to pull her into him. She laid still, curled up against him. 

Her body generated heat like a hot water bottle, and Darcy found himself pressing every available surface closer to her. He breathed in her clean, fruity scent. Sweet and watery, she smelled like freshwater streams and a thousand types of berries. Like rock salt, and lavender. He couldn’t identify anything else. He just enjoyed it.

He snuggled up to her, and wished she would say something. Something like ‘I am sorry.’ ‘I want this too.’ ‘It’s not your fault.’ 

Something like ‘I love you.’

In his mind’s eye Darcy saw the future. Saw it as clear as day, as real as the gift of a woman in his arms. 

_ “Hey,” she whispered. Darcy just barely cracked an eyelid, and was greeted by a soft grin that showcased her twinkling eyes. “You awake?” _

_ “I am now,” he grumbled, pulling her closer. _

_ Lizzy laughed as he pressed lingering kisses to the underside of her jaw. _

_ “Uh uh,” she taunted, pulling away, “Not THIS morning, mister.” _

_ Darcy manufactured a pout, and Lizzy kissed his nose. “It’s your turn to wake the kids, remember?” She said, grinning. _

_ Darcy smiled, and rolled out of bed. He padded to the door, but before he could open it, two little balls of curly-haired energy almost knocked him over. “DADDY!” _

_ He managed to catch them, and laughing, he shouted over his shoulder, “My job’s done!” _

_ His lady love huffed behind him, amused. “SO lucky.” _

_ “You’re right,” he said, walking over to kiss her forehead, “I am so lucky.” _

_ Before Lizzy could rightly berate him for the cheesy line, the little boy, who had cinnamon-colored fluff for hair and his mother’s eyes, tugged on his pant leg.  _

_ “Daddy, daddy,” the boy said pleadingly, a gap-toothed grin firmly in place, “Can we have pancakes today?”  _

_ “OOOOH,” chimed in his sister, a light-skinned sprite with Darcy’s brown eyes and her hair in adorable ringlets, “CAN WE?! Pleeeease?” _

_ “You’ll have to ask your mother.” He turned to her, and tried to adopt the puppy-eyes his children had so perfected. “What’d ya say, love? Pleeeeease?” _

_ Lizzy laughed, a bright, carefree sound, and acquiesced. “But you have to get me coffee,” she told the kids. “Can you carry the pot alright?” _

_ “Yes yes yes, I can!” Squealed the girl. _

_ “Nuh uh, I wanna be the helper!” Her brother cried out in consternation. _

_ “Race for it!” _

_ And just like that, the twins bounded out of the bedroom, leaving their parents chuckling behind them. _

_ “You know they’re gonna spill that all over the rug,” Darcy accused mildly. _

_ Lizzy shrugged, finger-combing her hair and smiling up at him. “Yeah. I just wanted to stay in bed a while longer. YOU, on the other hand, Mr Darcy, will be cleaning up any spilled coffee!” _

_ He gasped in mock-outrage, then leaped at her. She giggled and tried to dive under the covers, but Darcy was too fast. He pulled her out and tickled her until she couldn’t breathe, and tears of joy ran down her face, still beautiful and still freckled, after all these years. _

_ “FINE,” she wheezed, “You win, Mr Darcy!” _

_ He smiled, the lines around his eyes growing more prominent. He brought up her hand, and kissed the golden band on her third finger. “Well played, Mrs Darcy.” _

_ “I love you,” she whispered. “So much.” _

_ Darcy moved until their foreheads were resting together, as if he could send all his thoughts and hopes and dreams into her head— and show her they had all come true. _

_ “I love you too, Lizzy.” _

He pulled her a little closer. Her hair brushed against his puffy eyes, still open in the darkness. If her curls were a little damp in the morning, no one would ever know.

He loved this woman, more than anything.

He just wished he had the strength to tell her.


	34. The Morning After a Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy’s POV. Angsty realizations. :( will hopefully get to lighter stuff soon, but maybe not the next one (exposition and setup)

There was something pressing into her back. Lizzy could feel it. 

It was pressing into her, right below one shoulder blade, and her skin around it was warm. Air was coming out of the thing in long, sleepy breaths. Deep breathing, from a deep voice in a deep sleep. The shape pressing into her felt smallish, bluntish, and it nuzzled into her like a sleepy puppy. A voice came from right below it, murmuring her name.

_ Aha,  _ Lizzy thought, groggily,  _ a voice right below! Voice comes from mouth, mouth is right below nose! It’s a nose! _

But whose nose was being nuzzled into her shoulder? Lizzy hadn’t had a romantic partner in almost a year; she hadn’t slept beside anyone in even longer than that.

Lizzy really wanted to find out who the nose belonged to. Who was snuggling her so gently, holding her so tight, but her mind was slipping back into slumber. And besides, she couldn’t move a muscle. It felt like sleep paralysis, except she didn’t get that. 

She existed in a languid sort of state, in between dreams. Lizzy’s only real movement was a whimper she couldn’t control when the sleepy voice stopped whispering tender words into her back, and the warmth faded from behind her. Lizzy wanted to reach out, to find who had been there and hold on tight, but her body wouldn’t obey her. Her eyes remained blind, and her thoughts soon fell back into the oblivion of sleep.

Suddenly, the numb, seemingly unbreakable chrysalis that had held her hostage melted away, and Lizzy could move again.

She opened her eyes to see a sideways room she hadn’t been in before. She was in a sleeping bag, still dressed in her clothes from last night. Behind her, there was a cold invention of someone else’s body. In front of her, there was a desk, and around her, walls.

Lizzy sat up, and took in the rest of her surroundings.

The first thing that surrounded her was pain: namely, her head.

“Fuck,” Lizzy muttered, holding her temples as if to hold back the pounding in her skull.  _ What happened? _

Lizzy tried to remember last night. She drank, but that was all that was clear in her mind. She concentrated, ignoring the pain, and tried to think about  _ exactly _ what had happened last night, at the club.

It came back to her in flashes. A half-peeled label of a beer bottle. Charming green eyes, the color of moss. Trying not to cry. Laughter and loud music. Glow-sticks breaking through the shadows like electric currents, sharp and fading through the crowd. Wanting more, more, more. 

Then…. Him.

His judgemental tone. His worried brown eyes. His dark curls in her hands as she held him close. Her mouth on his. Him, his face afterward, his stupid, searching,  _ disappointed _ eyes watching her. As if he didn’t know her anymore. As if he didn’t even want to try, anymore.

And that was all she remembered. And all she wanted to do was go back in time, and NEVER,  _ EVER _ come to the Playpen. Never see his shocked face, disgusted with her, pitting her, again.  _ Never. _

That was her initial response. But then.. something in her chest, just below her sternum, ached when she thought about it. When she thought about a life without William Darcy.

“Oh my god,” Lizzy groaned, pressing her fingers up to her swollen eyelids, “Oh my god.”

She had feelings for Will. She.. maybe even…

_She might even love him._ But now she’d never know.

Because she had just single-handedly proved when she kissed him, she was alone in those feelings. And, quite possibly, made Will uncomfortable while presenting the worst, most pathetic parts of herself. She had shown herself to be nothing better than a sad, drunken mess, one that no man or woman in their right mind would enter into a relationship with.  _ Just _ as she came to terms with her feelings.

In short, Elize Bennít had  _ royally _ fucked up.

Just as she came to this realization, a door opened and in walked the last person Lizzy wanted to see right then.

“Hey,” he said, “You’re up.”

Lizzy grimaced in greeting. She covered her face, partially to block out the light and partially to hide her shame. “Hi, Will.”

“How.. how are you?” His voice asked. 

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Fine,” she croaked.

“I brought you an Advil,” Will said. 

“Thanks,” was Lizzy’s reponse.  _ Don’t be nice to me. Please. I can’t take it. Please, God, just don’t pull me along anymore. _

Will stopped loitering at the door and walked over. He crouched down until he was at her eye level, though his own eyes were focused on the floor. “Um, are you hungry?”

Lizzy took the Advil and dry swallowed it. “No,” she said.

“You should eat,” said Will, finally looking at her, “It helps when you’re hungover.”

“I’m not THAT hungover,” Lizzy grumbled, her cheeks warming.

Will scoffed a little. “Uh, YEAH, you are. You could barely stand last night. That’s.. that’s not healthy, Elize.”

“I know.”

“You could have gotten alcohol poisoning.”

“I know.”

“It was dangerous to drink that much, all alone.”

“I  _ know.” _

“You could have been mugged or kidnapped or raped or—”

“Will!” Lizzy snapped. “I’m fine!”

His face was twisted, but unreadable. His eyes were saying something like ‘you don’t understand’ as he shook his head from side to side. 

“Lizzy,” he said, slowly, condescendingly, “I KNOW you think you know the risks of this, but, frankly, it was irresponsible to drink that much and to not arrange a ride home. Merriton is… it— You could have been hurt.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “C’mon, Will. I’m not some teenager sneaking out for the first time. I  _ had  _ a ride, you just swooped in and got there first.”

Suddenly, Lizzy knew Will hadn’t been mad before. Because the emotion on his face now?  _ That  _ was mad.

“Wickham,” he spat. “Right. You had a ride with  _ Wickham.” _

“So?” Lizzy snapped back, her temper flaring.  _ Who did this guy think he was?  _

“Wickham isn’t…” Will ground his teeth. “He isn’t someone you should take rides from, to say the LEAST.”

Lizzy crossed her arms and frowned at the man. She had  _ said _ she didn’t want him nice, but him being mean was just as bad.

“He seemed like an okay guy to me,” she shrugged, looking away and frowning.

Will’s hands were suddenly on her shoulders, pulling her around to face him. He shook her, lightly.  _ “Listen to me, Lizzy.  _ DON’T TRUST HIM. Don’t. He’s a gambler, a-and a cheat, and sleeps around with lots of women, and— and lots of other things. You shouldn’t be around him. You shouldn’t even talk to him. You shouldn’t—”

“Will!” Lizzy cried, incensed and jumping to her feet, “It is NONE of your business what I do, or who I talk to! None!”

His face looked up at her, stone cold and angry. His lip was curled. His eyes flashed and his eyes were the color volcanic rocks, glaring at her, ready to burst with some molten and untamed emotion. If he had moved in that moment, Lizzy would have flinched.

He was the most handsome man she had ever met, but in that moment..., he was.. repulsive.

Lizzy growled low in her throat. In a calm voice, calmer than she felt, she said, “You  **don’t have the right** to judge me,  **or** my choices. So just  _ don’t _ , William Darcy.” 

A bit of her anger crumpled inside her, and her voice lost a little of its edge. “Just.. just don’t.” She swallowed. A lump was forming in her throat that she couldn’t get rid of. “I- I have to go.”

Before he could say anything, anything at all, Lizzy was grabbing her shoes and walking out the door. It slammed behind her.

It didn’t open again.

She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya yall! Its me, Vinny :)
> 
> For those you have been following this story since the beginning, you may know that I posted very regularly— almost every day. You may have also noticed that in recent chapters, I’ve been slipping. I know it’s not really an excuse, but my mental health hasn’t been that great (shocker I know, for a fanfic writer). I’ve been really struggling (which actually makes it very easy to write angst lol [I joke, but the light inside me is dying]) It’s been hard to find pleasure in things, and work up motivation. 
> 
> (Also, don’t worry for me, I’m not about to do a google search for sturdy ropes, I’m just very.. not happy and not-okay, and I need to change something if I want to get better)
> 
> THIS ISN’T TO SAY I’M ABANDONING THIS STORY, HELL TO THE NO. 
> 
> I still love this story, and fully intent to keep posting as often as I can.
> 
> I’m just starting a new Medication, that will hopefully pull me out of some lower days. Unfortunately, there is a possibility that the first week or two will be even rougher— a risk I am willing to take on the road to recovery. But please note, if I take a little longer to post in the next few updates, it is not because I am not interested in the story or because I’ve moved on. I just need to get the help I need. Thank y’all so much for understanding.
> 
> I love each and every one of yall. If u need a pick me up story while I’m off in depression-land, please check out The Cat’s Guide to Compromise and Havenswood (2nd one is on ff.net) they are very very good stories, that I highly reccomend if u have a craving for P&P. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Stay safe out there ❤️ ~ vinny


	35. Emotional Conversations, with All the Wrong People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Lizzy talks to some people about what happened, and tries to hold it together. Will post again soon. Also, Wickham again 🤢

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y’all! It’s Vinny
> 
> I it’s been almost a week since I started the medicine, and although I haven’t got the benefits just yet, I‘m still hopeful. I found it in me to get excited about something: coming up with new plot ideas and character sketches (the story after this one is gonna be a DOOZIE, complete with murder and romance). My posting schedule is still gonna be a little spaced out, but hopefully it’ll get better soon. 
> 
> I wanted to thank everyone who wished me well— you have no idea how much of a difference one comment can make to a person. I’m so grateful I have y’all to support me, and that you are each so understanding and kind. It really made me feel good, to know that I wasn’t alone ❤️
> 
> Anyway, hopefully soon I’ll be okay again! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the story, and please remember to stay safe out there! I love each and every one of you :)   
> (And don’t worry, some sweet Darcy/Lizzy fluff is coming soon)

Elize was out the Playpen doors before she could process what happened. And even when it hit her, she felt.. numb.  _ Why did it feel like she just broke up with someone? Why did she just feel like she ended a friendship? _

_ Did she want to? _

She didn’t.. she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to see him, or think about him. Nope. Not right now.

Belatedly, Lizzy realized that she should probably call Rosa Jane; let her know what was going on. She clicked onto favorites and watched it ring.

Finally, she picked up. “Hello, Lizzy?”

“Hiya Rosie J,” Lizzy said, attempting to smile, even if it wouldn’t be seen. “How are you?”

“I’m fine…,” Rosa said, hesitating, “Is.. everything alright?”

Lizzy coughed a little. Her nose was congested from holding back tears. “Yes. Well, no, not really, but it’s.. fine.”

“Tell me what happened,” her sister commanded in her best no-nonsense voice.

Lizzy hiccuped. “Will and I.. we… we had a thing.”

“A thing?”

“A fight. I- I don’t wanna talk about it.” Lizzy drew in a shaky breath, and leaned against a wall. “I.. I just had to get out of there.”

“Oh, hermanita,” Rosa cooed sadly, “I’m so sorry that happened. Do you want me to come over?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Lizzy smiled into the phone. She wiped at her eyes, laughing a little. “I’m sorry for messing up your time with Charles. I- I just— I’m sorry—“

“Elize!” She cried into the phone, before lowering her voice, “Escúchame. You didn’t mess up anything. ANYTHING. ¿Me comprendes? If y’all had a fight— sucede, no big deal. But if you’re upset, I  _ will  _ comfort you. Soy tu mejor hermana, es mi trabajo ayudar with this sorta thing. OK?”

Lizzy sniffled into a smile. “Okay,” she said softly, then shook her head. “But it’s cool. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Rosa asked, unconvinced.

“Yeah,” Lizzy said, a bit stronger. “But thanks for that. I love you.”

“I love you too, Liz. Cuídate, hermanita— don’t beat yourself up. Call me later, yeh?”

“I will. Bye.”

Lizzy rubbed her eyes as she continued walking down the tired sidewalk. There was a chalk drawing of a flower off to one side. Lizzy took care not to step on it.

Why was she so hung up on William Darcy anyway? Yes, she had feelings for him, but did that really mean he should control every part of her life? She couldn’t even remember the last time she had come into work. 

_ Oh shit!  _

Lizzy quickened her pace to a run, switching routes so that the familiar shape of the QuickaSnack loomed in front of her. She burst through the doors, out of breath and frantic. 

She was greeted by the sight of Mr Gardiner leaning casually on the counter, smiling over at Dr Jenna Lawrence, who was holding Ronnie on her hip and cooing. All three looked over at her when she entered the room.

“I’m here!” She gasped, putting a hand to her chest as she fought for breath, “I’m here!”

“So you are, Lizzy,” Mr G said with raised eyebrows.

Lizzy walked over and clasped her hands furtively in front of her. “Mr G, I am so sorry I didn’t show up for my shift. I- I’ve been having a lot going on, and it slipped my mind to—“

“Sounds like excuses,” he smiled, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at Jenna (who covered a smile with her free hand).

“It won’t happen again,” Lizzy swore.

Mr G laughed easily, waving her off. “Oh, sweet girl, s’fine! Jenna here has been helping me out since you’ve been gone. Actually,” he leaned over, and stage-whispered, “I might appreciate you forgetting your shift a little more often.”

Jenna chuckled, and slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t listen to Don,” she said, her pale pink face getting even pink as a blush overcame her aging beauty, “He’s been stressed lately. He needs some more help.”

“And who better to help me than me than my two favorite women around?”

Lizzy snickered at Mr G’s lovesick exuberance. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, I sure can’t think of anyone.  _ Don.” _

Mr G ducked his head and grinned bashfully. Jenna laughed, and walked out from behind the counter.

“Actually Don, I should get going. See you tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning hugely, “tonight.”

She kissed him shyly on the cheek, and handed Ronnie over. Ronnie made a disgusted face at Lizzy, who mimicked it to make him laugh. 

After Jenna left the store, Lizzy turned to Mr G with a slack-jawed smile.  _ “Mr Gardiner,” _ she said slowly, “is there anything you’d like to share with the class?”

He reddened, and busied himself with bouncing Ronnie up and down.

Lizzy poked him in the shoulder. “C’moooon. Are you two….?”

Mr G looked even more embarrassed, but he smiled as he expelled a long, slow sigh. “Yes,” he finally said. “Jenna and I are together.”

Lizzy squealed like a little kid, and Ronnie, excited by the outburst, jumped out of Mr Gardiner’s arms to join in the fun. 

“WHAT ARE WE HAPPY ABOUT?” He shouted, jumping around like a grasshopper, “IS IT WIZZY’S BIRTHDAY? WIWW THERE BE CAKE???!”

Both adults laughed, and Mr G affectionately rubbed his nephew’s bristled head. “Nah, no cake today, lil’ tyke.”

The small boy affected a pout, which Lizzy copied. Mr G laughed again. “What do I do with you?” He chuckled, walking over to the pastry section and grabbing a half-slice. As soon as it was in his hands, Ronnie gobbled down the sweet.

“I’ll man the counter then,” Lizzy said. Mr G nodded appreciatively.

As Ronnie finished the cake, and Mr Gardiner led the boy away to get him cleaned up, a figure stumbled through the QuickaSnack doors, one hand pressed to his head.

Lizzy looked up, squinted, then smiled. “Hey, Wick.”

Jorge Wickham peered at her from behind his fingers, his moss green eyes glancing her up and down. “Heyyy..,” he eventually responded with a smile. “...buddy!”

“It’s Lizzy,” she said, amused. “From the bar?”

Wickham snapped his fingers and looked a little more jovial as his grin grew more friendly. “Ohhh right! Lizzy! You were the.. were the… you work here!”

“Yes,” she grinned, “I do.”

Wickham winced at himself. “Ouch. I’m sorry. I had too much that night. Don’t really remember much.”

Lizzy shrugged, saying, “Yeah, I can’t really judge. I drank almost as much as you did last night.”

“Riiight. Right. Oh yea! I remember now.” Wickham looked at her sympathetically. “You got turned down by a guy, right?”

Lizzy bit the inside of her cheek, looked away, and nodded. She had wanted to forget about Will. Now AND then.

“Hey.. hey.” Wickham sidled up to her, and put a hand on her arm comfortingly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lizzy looked up into his mossy eyes and wondered how much she should say. Finally she said, “Um, it’s still kinda.. fresh.”

“I get it,” he shrugged, moving away from her. “I have guy troubles too.”

He reddened, looking genuine for the first time as he tried to correct himself. “I mean, I’m not gay! Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with that, I’m just.. uh, I’m straight. Women. Yeah.”

Lizzy covered her smile as Wickham floundered. Eventually, he groaned and pointed at her. “Oh hell, you know what I mean! But yeah, I’ve had problems with people too. Old friend who screwed me over.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna hear about it?”

Lizzy shrugged. “Sure!” She could use the distraction.

“Okay, well,” Wickham cleared his throat, “My dad was really close to this family. I was too, I guess. The son especially. His name was William. Real stuck-up asshat, even back then. Never talking to anyone. Always saying the wrong thing.”

Lizzy’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “Was his last name Darcy, by any chance?”

Wickham looked surprised. “You know him?”

“Ummm…” Lizzy remembered how vehemently Will had reacted against her hanging out with Wickham. She didn’t want to make her new friend mad at her. Better to play dumb. 

“Not really,” she said, indifferently.

At Wickham’s look, she elaborated uncomfortably. “Uhm, my sister is dating his friend. I’ve.. uh, seen— heard his name passed around. A bit.”  _ God, she was a terrible liar. _

But Wickham, at least, seemed to buy it. 

“Well, if you ever meet him, just know: he’s an asshole.”

Lizzy nodded, and Wickham continued.

“We used to be friends, ya know? But then.. then his parents died, and he turned cold. He cut me off from his family— his sister Gina, especially, was my good friend. She was like MY little sister. I was closer to her than he ever was!”

“Really?” Lizzy asked, eyebrows raised. “Are you two still in touch?”

“Nah,” he dismissed. “Darcy never let me see her again, after the funeral. He also made sure I could never get into college, AND— cherry on top— got me kicked out of the company.”

“How?”

“He was jealous.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “No, I mean, how did he get you kicked out?”

Wickham’s face took on the look of a tortured hero, remorseful and brooding and innocent in every way. “Darcy made up some lie, making it seem like a lawsuit was my fault. That I was irresponsible and drinking on the job or some shit like that. But really, he just wanted me gone. Didn’t think I was ‘good enough’ to work with him.”

Lizzy nodded at all the right times, but she really didn’t believe a word. Will would never do something like that— but also, she couldn’t believe Wickham was totally in the wrong here. She chose to go the middle route.

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry that happened.” Lizzy willed her eyes to widen in sympathy.

“It’s okay,” Wickham murmured nobly, “I’ve learned to live with it.” He seemed to shake himself off, and turned to her with a grin. “Anyway, enough of the pity party for ME. It’s your turn.”

Lizzy laughed nervously, and took her hand away. “Really, I don’t think..”

“No no,” he chuckled, “no escaping it now. Spill, baby girl!” 

“Don’t call me that,” she frowned playfully, then sighed. “But  _ fine.  _ I GUESS I’ll tell you.”

Wickham clapped enthusiastically, and rested his elbows on the counter, ready and eager to listen. Lizzy was less ready to talk, but she did anyway.

“So.. there’s, um, this guy. Named.. Archie. Yeah.” Lizzy could feel herself faltering under Wickham’s piercing green gaze. But she mustered her strength, and pushed on.

“Anyway, Archie’s great, he’s really.. really sweet. Very smart. Serious, but likes to banter. Awkward— really, REALLY awkward. Ahm. And he’s also new to town, I haven’t really known him that long. But I thought.. I just got the vibe he may have liked me, ya know?”

Wickham inclined his head. His eyes were very dark, and very green.

Lizzy cleared her throat. A blush was creeping up her neck. “A-anyway,” she said, “turns out.. I was wrong. He hardly even likes me. Or, if he does, I’m just a pleasant distraction— just a friend, and barely even that! He thinks I’m dumb and ugly and immature and… and… and I really liked him.”

“I’m so sorry that happened,” Wickham said, his voice bringing her back to the present. 

Lizzy blinked. Her eyes were suddenly prickling.  _ Had she been about to cry?  _ She offered Wickham a watery smile. “Thanks, Wick.”

“And hey— if he can’t see you for the gem you are, fuck him! He’s not worth your time— so don’t waste it pining after him, okay?”

Lizzy bit her lip. “Yeah, I guess.”

“In fact,” Wickham said, his eyes lighting up though his face was serious, “you shouldn’t waste ANY time on this guy. I’m guessing you had a fight?”

Lizzy nodded.

“Well, you shouldn’t make up if there’s no chance for anything more! If you want to be more than friends— DON’T BE FRIENDS. Cut that sonuvabitch off, that’s my advice.”

“Okay,” Lizzy said, hollowly.

“Good,” Wickham patted her shoulders. “I hope it all turns out peachy for ya, Liz.”

“Me too.”

She didn’t say anything more. For some odd reason, her throat had closed up. Wickham shuffled his feet, and unsuccessfully tried to catch her gaze.

“Well.. uh, I’ll be going then.”

That snapped Lizzy out of it. She looked at him, a ghost of a smile on her face. “Wait, aren’t you gonna buy anything?”

Wickham glanced around him in surprise, as if only now realizing he was in a convenience store. “Oh, right!”

Lizzy snickered to herself, and rang up the cigarettes he snatched from a display. “Anything else?”

“Nah. Maybe come in later, but for now, nah.”

“Kay. See you later then, Wick.”

“Later, Liz. Good luck with the whole Archie thing!”

“Yeah,” Lizzy said quietly as the door swung shut, “thanks.”

Then she was all alone in the store. There was nothing to distract her from the utter mess she’d made of things. She didn’t.. she didn’t want to just be friends. But then again, the thought of cutting Will out of her life completely made Lizzy’s chest ache. She didn’t want to lose him. She wasn’t strong enough for that, yet. 

So the only question left to ask, was what happened now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROUGH TRANSLATIONS: (Rosa’s phone call with Lizzy)
> 
> “Elize! Listen to me. You didn’t mess up anything. ANYTHING. Understand me? If y’all had a fight— it happens, no big deal. But if you’re upset, I will comfort you. I’m your big sister, it’s my job to help with the sorta thing. OK?”
> 
> “Love you too, Liz. Take care, little sister— don’t beat yourself up. Call me later, yeh?”


	36. Trying an Apology with Cream, no Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy tries to figure out how to apologize to Will. Much pining. Will post again soon, this time, catching us up on what Darcy’s doing/did through all of this :)  
> As always, Thanks for reading! 💕🌸 ~vinny

It took a few days for Lizzy to cool down. She didn’t get much done. Mostly moping around the apartment, taking shifts at the QuickaSnack, and hanging out with Rosa Jane and Charlotte (both of whom were mildly worried about her). 

Lizzy didn’t so much _think_ about Will, as just plain miss him. Like a dull ache in her chest that got worse when someone mentioned his name. She would make a conscious effort not to think about him, but that didn’t stop her from wishing he would call.

He didn’t.

After five days, Lizzy was done being mad at him. He had overstepped, to be sure, but he wasn’t wrong. She _had_ been irresponsible that night. She _could_ have gotten hurt. 

(And Wickham, despite being a nice guy, wasn’t an entirely _good_ one. He did buy a LOT of alcohol [not that she was judging] and he flirted with just about every female he saw. But that didn’t make him bad— they were both probably just overreacting)

Looking back, Lizzy was immensely grateful Will had taken her home that night. She just wished things hadn’t gotten weird between them.

 _So, Miss Elize,_ she thought to herself in a sudden fit of clarity, _How do you make it Not-weird?_

_Apologize._

Will hadn’t deserved her snapping at him that morning, just after he had been so nice and understanding the night before. Goddamnit, he was her friend! Feelings aside, friends didn’t stay mad at each other.

But Lizzy didn’t want to just call him— calling was always awkward for her (she hated not being able to read facial expressions in conversation) and texting didn’t feel as meaningful. She would have to see him in person. 

Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed, though.

It wasn’t that Lizzy had no way to reach him— if anything, she had too many ways! She knew where he lived, where he worked, how he took his coffee… Wait. 

Lizzy snapped her fingers! Yes! That was it! Coffee! A nice, simple, sweet gesture of apology she could give to him, and play it off as casual. No big deal, right? Just.. make his favorite coffee, and.. write a note on the inside. Yeah. Okay.

Elize felt jittery as she poured a cup of the Home Blend into a paper cup and sealed the lid. She shook out her hands, flexing her fingers. _Why was she suddenly anxious? Jeez Louise, calm down, Jitterbug._ After she poured in the cream and sprinkled on some nutmeg, Lizzy dipped a stirring rod into the steaming brown liquid. She tasted it, trying not to think about how Will’s mouth would touch this cup too, and smiled to herself. _Not bad!_

Now, for the note. 

She would write it on the little cardboard koozie— the one used to keep your hands from getting burned. That way he would see it better, and she wouldn’t have to tilt her head in a weird way to write it! Without further ado, Lizzy grabbed a sharpie, took the cap in the mouth, and dove right in. No time like the present, after all.

> **Hey, Will! This is kinda a weird way to say** **I’m sorry** **something, but I got awkward and nervous and this seemed like the best way, at the time. Ha, ha**

She winced at herself. God, she was awkward around him.

> **Anyway, what I really wanted to say was I’m sorry.** ~~**I wish I**~~ **I’m really sorry. It was wrong of me to** ~~**kis**~~ **snap at you, and you were right— you** ~~**didn’t deserve**~~ **were just trying to look out for me. And.. I really appreciate that.**

_You know what?_ Lizzy thought to herself, _Screw it. This is already blunt and weird and honest. Might as well go for gold._

> **And I really appreciate you, Will. You.. are a great guy. You’re sweet and funny** ~~**and adorkably smart**~~ **and nicer than just about everyone I know. I like you, a lot. And I.. would really like to date you, sometime.** ~~**Romantically.**~~ **And I know, you just wanna be friends, and I respect that!** ~~**I don’t agree, but**~~ **I just think we would be good together. And I won’t bring it up again, I promise! I’ll respect your boundaries. Contact me if you want to** ~~**but only if you want to, I’m not trying to pressure**~~ **I just…**

She was almost out of room. What on earth could she say, that would make him see just how much she…

> **..care about you.**
> 
> **Take care, Will :)**

Lizzy threw the Sharpie across the room. 

Next thing she knew, she was standing outside the Playpen, looking up at the familiar faded bricks and wondering what the hell she was doing. The Coffee Cup of Fate was clutched in one hand, her handwriting slanted hopeful across the cardboard case. Armed with an awkward, plastered-on smile and a cup of hot coffee, Lizzy pushed open the Playpen doors.

And found no one there, obviously. Will worked on the second floor. Duh. She knew that. It wasn’t like she was half-expecting him to be there at the doors, waiting for her with a sideways grin and tousled hair and sweep her up into his arms…

Lizzy focused on climbing the stairs. One after the other. Soon, she reached the second floor, which was…

Also empty. Disappointingly empty. Ghost town. Tumbleweeds. *chirp chirp* kind of empty. _Weird._

Lizzy peered around the corner, and almost knocked noses with Charles Bingley.

He yelped like a puppy, and she jumped backwards, almost falling back down the stairs. The only reason she didn’t was because of Charles grabbing her shoulders and keeping her rooted. 

“Woah, hey now!” He said, steadying them both. His eyes were very wide and startled, but when his brain caught up with the moment, he smiled. “Well well well, if it isn’t Lizzy Bennít! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His face grew serious, and his grey-blue eyes once more grew nervous. “Is it Rosa? Is she okay? Shoot, I knew I should have called her this morning, I—”

“Everything’s fine,” Lizzy said, regaining her balance, “Rosa’s fine.”

“Oh. Good.” Charles smiled at her, awkwardly dropping his hands to his sides. “So, uh, what brings you here?”

Lizzy glanced down. Some coffee sloshed over the side of the cup, and now her hand was lukewarm and slightly sticky. She transferred her apology cup to the other hand.

“Um, y’know,” she demurred, “the usual.”

Charles cocked his head to the side, once more reminding Lizzy of a puppy. She let out a breath and assumed a smile.

“I just.. I knew Will has been.. uh, stressed, lately, and… I wanted to bringhimsomecoffeeifthat’sokay.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s fine!” Charles said, “You can just leave it in his office— you remember where it is, right? He’ll be back soon. Think he went to go pick up his sister from somewhere.”

“Okay,” Lizzy nodded, biting her lip, “Okay. Cool.”

He held up two thumbs up. He smiled. “Cool!”

Lizzy smiled back, a little weakly. She had wanted to give Will the cup in person…..wait, actually, maybe this was better. Lizzy wasn’t sure she would be able to handle seeing him reject her (again? Would it be again? Did the kiss in the car count?). Besides, she had said no pressure, and she _meant NO PRESSURE._ If he didn’t return her feelings, that was A-okay. 

Well, not really, but she was willing to pretend.

Lizzy kept this mantra inside of her head as she left the now lukewarm coffee on Will’s immaculate desk. She kept it in her head as she walked past a rolled up sleeping bag, and had to fight down a tidal wave of memories. She kept it in her head all the way back to her apartment, and all the way into her bed.

Only at night, did she finally admit to herself that if Will didn’t return her feelings.. things _wouldn’t_ be okay.

And she wasn’t willing to pretend, anymore.


	37. Checking Feelings, but Not Keeping Them in Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Darcy’s POV— LOTS of pining. Also, some fun conversations with Gina and Bingley. Next one is gonna be a lil angsty- just heads up :) Sorry for the wait, hopefully will finish the next one soon! Until then, stay safe y’all, and thanks for reading! 🌸 ~Vinny

William Darcy was not a man usually prone to anger. He was not a man who yelled for no reason. He was not one who took things lightly when it came to people he loved— he was not one to love easily, either. He also was not one that punched walls, tore up pieces of paper, or cursed in public. He was not one that forgave easily.

The last thing that he wasn’t, was a man who left his little sister tied up and gagged on the side of a Southern California road while he went and drove into the ocean.

Well, that last one, he was still considering.

“So like, this girl, Bethany— you know Bethany, she works at the observatory— she was being a MAJOR pain today, and kept being all like, ‘you’re wearing  _ that?  _ What are you, retarded?’ Which is a horribly messed up and ableist thing to say, BTW, but that’s besides the point. Anyway, she wasn’t doing this to  _ me,  _ but I  _ saw  _ her do it to Katyln, who was all ‘you better watch yourself,’ which was really cool of her because, like, she’s not even out of high school and Bethany’s a junior, so we all—”

_ “GINA.” _

__ Darcy’s sister stopped speaking (finally) and bit down on her gum, looking at him worriedly. “What?”

Darcy took a deep breath and stretched his fingers. His knuckles were starting to go rigid on the steering wheel.

“Gina,” he said (in what he no longer cared if it was) a controlled voice, “Please. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’M TRYING TO DRIVE. So, maybe, could we continue this  _ fascinating  _ conversation some other time?”

In the passenger seat of the Tesla, Gina hunched down a little. She tucked her gum into her cheek with a hurt expression. “Okay,” she said, and turned toward the window.

It was about four blocks before Darcy realized, that probably hadn’t been the right thing to say.

He sighed. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Gina… I’m sorry. Th-that was rude of me. Please, continue.”

She shrugged, offering him a wan smile. “Naw, s’okay. I can tell you’re.. you’ve got a lot on your mind. Don’t wanna distract you.”

_ But distraction was the only thing he needed right now. Needed more than anything.  _

“No, it’s alright. Please, I want to know what happened to.. uh.. Katie, did you say?”

“Katyln. You know, the high schooler who hangs out at the park sometimes, I’ve told you about her! She’s Lizzy’s sister and..”

Gina did not finish the sentence. For two reasons: the first, she was running out of words to say to her twitching, suddenly moody brother. The second reason being that same brother unconsciously slammed on the breaks as soon as  _ her  _ name passed through her lips. 

Gina didn’t hit her head on the dashboard. But both Darcy siblings did lurch forward in their tightening seat-belts, and both took a second of silence to recover.

“Sorry,” he said eventually, tentatively taking his foot off the pedal.

“It’s okay,” Gina replied shakily, automatically.

She licked her lips, and glanced over at her big brother, who suddenly seemed very interested in the road ahead. 

“Um,” Gina said, “Are you.. Does…  _ this,”  _ she gestured vaguely at all of him, “have to do with.. Lizzy?”

He tried for an unaffected grin. He failed.

Finally, he sighed again, puffing out his cheeks and checking his rear view mirror. “Maybe.”

“Did you two... have a fight?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you.. okay?”

Darcy didn’t answer. He would have liked to force a smile, but his lips twitched instead downwards, creasing his chin with his troubled frown.

He felt Gina’s delicate hand on his shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it, or do you want me to back the fuck off?”

This actually did elicit a chuckle from him, though it was slightly on the weak side. “I’ll take door #2, Alex.”

“Okay,” she smiled at him, “But know if you ever wanna talk, I’m here for you.”

He smiled at her; no teeth, just with his eyes. “Thanks, little sis.”

“Anytime, big bro.” Gina’s blue eyes flicked to the even bluer sky ahead of them, riddled with street lamps and scattered across an intermittent sea of faint wisps that might one day call themselves clouds. “Uh, I think we’re here.”

“What?” Darcy looked up, and realized he was sitting idle in the street in front of the condo. “Oh right!”

He put the car in park and allowed his sister to kiss his cheek before she clambered out of her seat. 

Looking back, she waved a little. He waved back. Then he drove off, and wondered why he felt hungry, but also kind of like throwing up. Overall though, he spent the drive back to the Playpen with nary a thought in his head that didn’t involve _her._

He was mad at her. Or, rather, he wished he could be mad at her. She had been irrationally angry that morning, lashing out at him when he was just trying to help! Granted, he may have overstepped a little, but didn’t.. f-friends.. try and give each other advice? Just thinking about it made his blood boil.

Except this was Lizzy. 

And no matter how much he wanted to shake some sense into her, part of him just wanted to grovel at her feet— just for the chance to see her again. It was stupid. He wished he could just stop loving her and be done with it. But no matter how hard he tried, she was all he wanted.

So, overall, he spent the drive back torn between emotions.

It was only when he marched into the offices that he was hit with the sudden, crippling bite of loneliness, and all anger melted away. And all he wanted to do was see her again.

This happened when he was opening the door, letting the air conditioning pretend it was strong enough to blow the curls off his forehead, and breath in the clean smell of the indoors. It occurred to him (and it almost made him smile) that he felt like a 50s sitcom character, coming through the door with a skinny tie and a briefcase, shouting ‘Honey, I’m home!’

Then he imagined he was not just coming home, but coming home to  _ her. _

She didn’t even have to be dressed up in a 50s pearl necklace, or wearing normal-fantasy-lingerie— he would like her best if she was wearing whatever clothes she had thrown on— a faded T-shirt or a wrinkled blouse or even just some pajama pants and a hoodie. It didn’t matter what she would wear… as long as she was HER, and she would smile at him, and kiss his cheek, and ask him how his day was.

And loosen his tie and tease him about the way he insisted on hanging up his coat. Maybe she would take his hand, kiss him slow, and then dance with him to some out-of-tune 80s pop he would have never listened to without her. And then fall down laughing on the rug, pulling him down with her as she told him how lucky she was that he was hers.

And she would just smile, and he would just hold her, and everything would be alright.

Yeah. That was about when the loneliness set in.

Darcy sighed, and made his way up the stairs. It hurt, trying not to love her. It hurt more than he would admit to anyone. 

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, absorbed in his own thoughts, Darcy rounded a corner, then clapped a hand over his eyes with the (embarrassingly high-pitched) cry of “CH- CHARLES!”

“DARCY!” His friend yelped, accompanied by the squeak of Rosa Jane’s voice— no less surprised, but a little muffled by the couch cushions. 

Darcy turned his back, his hand still over his eyes, as he tried to ignore the sounds of shuffling fabric and zippers behind him. He tried to count to 10, and burn the image of his best friend’s ‘informal attire’ out of his head. Eventually, he heard Charles’ voice say, “All clear.”

He turned around and eyed the couple warily, as if they might just start up their ‘amorous activities’ with him still in the room. Charles’ shirt was still untucked, and his cinnamon hair was sticking up strangely on one side. Rosa Jane looked perfectly attired, but her face (which always glowed with a healthy brown vigor) was a bright magenta. 

Darcy cleared his throat. “Uhm. Hello.”

“Hi,” Charles smiled awkwardly, “We.. I thought you would be.. back a little later.”

He couldn’t resist quirking his eyebrow. Just a little bit. “Clearly.”

Finally, Rosa Jane spoke up (though she still wouldn’t meet his eyes). “I am so sorry,” she said, speaking quickly, “I- We should have..”

She trailed off helplessly. Darcy suppressed a sigh (he had been sighing too much lately; he needed to cut back). There was no way to get out of the conversation that  _ wasn’t  _ awkward.

“It’s fine,” he said briskly, “No harm done.” He paused, and felt his cheeks heat up a little. “Just maybe.. lock a door, next time… or something.”

Both nodded, each exhibiting varying degrees of chagrin and mortification.

“I- I should go,” Rosa said. She looked at Charles a little longingly, before her eyes glanced to Darcy, and she pursed her lips. “It was, uh, nice to see you.”

Darcy attempted a smile/grimace as she walked purposefully out the door. Charles stuck his hands deep into his pockets and studied the floor. Only when he heard a door slam did Darcy choose to address the room’s resident pachyderm.

“So… getting a lot of paperwork done, I see?”

Charles barked a dry laugh. “Not as much as you’d think, actually.” He paused, and looked at Darcy questioningly, all embarrassment fled from his features. “Wait, does paperwork mean paperwork, or does paperwork mean sex?”

Darcy grimaced for real this time, and he groaned a hollow-sounding laugh. “So,” he said, “I assume you and Ms Bennít are an item now?”

He had been intending to tease his friend, but Charles’ heartfelt smile cut away his humor. Something akin to.. blunted jealousy took its place

“I still can’t believe it myself,” he sighed contentedly, a disgustingly love-struck expression firmly in place, “She’s an angel. Swear to God, man. Angel.”

Darcy willed himself not to glare. “Yeah, well,” he muttered softly. Nothing more to say, so he trudged past the loverboy and into his office.

On the desk, he spied a cup of coffee— a welcome (if unexpected) reprieve. As was his wont, Darcy slid off the unnecessary koozie, tossing it absentmindedly in the trash, and wrapped his hands around the delightfully warm cup. He breathed out slowly, and let the warmth of the liquid suffuse through his fingers. 

He raised it to his lips, and took a long, slow drink.  _ Mmmm.  _

The coffee was.. perfect. It was warm, but not hot— exotic yet somehow achingly familiar. It was creamy and a little nutty, with undertones of a darker blend mixing with the sweetness drizzled over the top. It was the best damn coffee he ever tasted. 

_ Wait. Where had he.. Where had he said that phrase before? _

Just then, Charles poked his head into the office.

“Hey, Darcy,” he said, “Sorry to disturb, but I just remembered: Lizzy left you a— oh. You found it!”

Darcy spluttered, pressing a hand to his lips to keep himself from doing a spit-take. “What?” He coughed.

Charles pointed to the coffee in his hands and smiled. “Lizzy brought you a coffee! She said something about you being stressed and.. uh… don’t remember what else.” Charles flashed him a mildly repentant smile. “Rosa showed up afterward, and I kinda got distracted.”

Darcy nodded, but his focus was on the coffee. He stared at it, as if a message would suddenly appear and tell him exactly what she was thinking when she was here. But there wasn’t any message. It was just coffee.

And.. Darcy was okay with that, he realized. He was okay, with even the slight warmth of the cup she had touched, and the knowledge that she had been thinking about him. 

For a while he just sat there. He didn’t really think of much. Charles had long since left his office. He was alone with the paperwork. He was too tired to try and figure out what it all meant; if she liked him as more than a friend, if this was an apology, if she wanted him to reach out to her.

He was happy just to sit there, sipping the coffee the woman he loved had left for him, with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 

_ She was thinking about him. _


End file.
